


Green Eyes and a Summer Sky

by KatMay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternative Universe - Sexual Slavery, F/F, F/M, Hurt Dean Winchester, Knotting, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25135528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatMay/pseuds/KatMay
Summary: Doctor Castiel Novak is gifted an omega of his choice. But instead of choosing one of the fresh-faced, academy-trained omegas on offer, he picks abreeder. When his new pet is delivered, Castiel realizes a pair of pretty green eyes doesn't exactly make up for a decade in a breeding farm.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 106
Kudos: 268





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Wrong Delivery](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4077976) by [ladyfanfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyfanfic/pseuds/ladyfanfic). 



> I was inspired by another fanfic called Wrong Delivery by ladyfanfic. It's an interesting read, currently on hiatus. My story starts similarly (I even kept a few of the same lines) but the story diverges quickly.
> 
> Trigger warnings: descriptions of a miscarriage, suicidal thoughts, rape

Dean whimpered as he lay naked on the floor of the cramped stall. A dirty blanket covered his scrunched legs and nothing else.

He was thin and his brown hair had been left to grow long and scraggly. His emancipated body was a patchwork of bruises and fading whip scars. Once, his face had been called beautiful but that had been before he’d become old and broken.

Dean was damaged. He was ugly and worthless. He knew this. After all, the masters had stopped coming for him ever since he’d failed at the one thing he was good for.

Dean had miscarried.

He couldn’t remember exactly when the horrible incident had happened but it couldn't have been that long ago; he was still lactating milk and he didn’t recall being given any hormone injections in the time since he’d lost his pups. 

The memory of waking in a spreading puddle of bright crimson made Dean curl tighter around himself. His bare skin broke out in goosebumps at the remembered sensation of sharp, insistent cramps. But it had been his realization that he was no longer strong enough to serve his one purpose in life that had hurt the most.

Currently, Dean’s pectorals were painfully full. No one had been by to even milk him, let alone feed or fuck him. He was worthless now.

Not even the staff wanted to use him. Fucking omegas was something all the staff at Novak Breeding Farm indulged in. But not with Dean, not anymore.

The Farm turned a profit by breeding omegas. Alphas and the occasional beta came and fucked the omega stock when they were in heat until they got pregnant. The alpha and beta pups were later sold, sometimes to the sire and sometimes to other families, while the omega pups were cycled directly into the Novak training facilities. However, no one objected to the staff enjoying the off-season stock during the course of their duties. Omegas were meant to be used that way after all.

Dean could hear the omega girl in the stall next to his sobbing as an alpha took her. The air was heavy with the scent of sex. A wave of jealousy washed through him. Dean longed for someone to come to his stall. 

It wasn't that he enjoyed sex with alphas. On the contrary. But maybe if someone came, he could try to prove that he was still a useful omega. He would force himself to bounce on the alpha’s cock and maybe moan like it felt good. Then he would be given some scraps or at least attached to the milking machine. His chest was so full it ached.

But deep down, Dean knew no one would come unless it was to put him out of his misery. He was at the end of his tether. The miscarriage had sealed his fate.

Dean had been a good breeder in his younger days. At twelve, he had given birth to three beautiful pups. He didn't know their sex or dynamic. The beta who’d helped him through his first child birth had taken them away immediately, leaving Dean with only one hazy glimpse to recall. He had so desperately wanted to hold them. But what he wanted didn’t matter. The pups had never been his. They belonged to whichever alpha had successfully bred him until that alpha relinquished those rights. Then his babies would go to whoever wanted to buy them. Courtesy of his training at the omega academy, Dean had understood that all the pups he gave birth to in his life were not his.

It had still hurt, knowing that after all his hard work carrying the pups and enduring long painful hours of labor, they were so easily taken away. One moment they were there, inside him and moving around, his to adore, and in the next they were gone. 

That first pregnancy had been the most painful, both physically and emotionally. Dean had sobbed, depressed for days. But it had been a great accomplishment. He had been able to do what all omegas were born to do: give birth to strong, healthy pups. In that, he found a modicum of solace.  
His second pregnancy produced another litter of three. The third time, he was lucky enough to have four. The poignant pain he felt each time the pups were taken away was offset by the casual comments he overheard. A good moneymaker, they called him. An accomplished breeder.

His fourth litter had produced only two pups but that had been okay. He was still breeding and that was what mattered.

But now Dean had failed. After years of giving birth to healthy pups, he had lost a litter of four.

Dean really should have seen it coming. The older an omega got, the more the alphas began to ignore it as new, more beautiful omegas came in from the training academy. The less alphas fucking an omega, the less opportunity an omega had to get pregnant. The longer it took for an omega to get pregnant, the more money the Farm lost feeding it. 

Omegas were the least prolific dynamic but there was still a steady enough stream of new omega births that housing older omegas once their good breeding years were over wasn’t worth it.

Some lucky older omegas, Dean knew, cared for the infant omega pups at the academies until they were old enough to begin training. It was Dean’s secret dream to become a carer of pups but the chances were so slim he didn’t bother to dwell on it. It was far more likely he’d be put down. His own days in training had made that future outcome all too clear.

At the academy, omegas were trained in a variety of skills; oral, both cunniligus and fallatio; taking an alphas knot; household chores including the basics of cooking and cleaning; and above all else, how to submit as an obedient pet. At the culmination of their training, attractive, submissive and sexually talented omegas were sold as pets to alphas and betas who could afford them. Less attractive, less obedient and less skilled omegas were cycled back into the breeding farms. After all, just taking an alpha’s knot on your knees or your back didn’t take much.

Dean wasn’t sure how old he was but the typical tenure of an omega in a breeding farm was ten years, averaging one pup per year. If he’d managed to meet that ten year mark, he had done better than average with a total of twelve healthy pups born. In fact, Dean was fairly certain he was the oldest omega at the farm. 

He tried to feel proud but there was only dread coiling in his stomach. Days had intermittently gone by before he was fed. The alphas were rarely using him even when he was in heat. And sometimes they beat him. Management didn’t seem to care. He could see the end coming. They would want to clear out his stall for a new omega, one that was young and healthy with a tight hole.

Dean wished, as he had many times before, that he had behaved better at the training academy. If he had, he might have been sent somewhere better. He had been bold and disobedient, terrible traits in an omega. They’d tried to punish it out of him but Dean had taken to biting at alphas when he’d reached the final stages of training. He hadn’t liked it when the alphas shoved cocks down his throat, or when they had tried to teach him how to take an alpha’s knot by using a toy. In the end, it’d taken a whip to make him learn; submission had been scored with heavy leather into his very flesh until he begged on all fours for cock, blood splattered all around and a puddle of piss underneath him.

Unfortunately, in teaching him to be the perfect pet, they’d destroyed his body. No one would pay for a scarred omega. He was too damaged to be sent anywhere but the breeding farm.

Dean noticed his nipples were leaking. He was long overdue to be pumped.

An indeterminate time later, he heard unhurried footsteps approaching. He lifted his head, hopeful. The person whistled and jangled some keys.

The alpha who opened his stall door gave him a mostly disinterested once over. 

A thin whine built in Dean’s throat. If he’d had a tail, it would have been wagging. _Please. Please, touch me. Milk me. Use me. Please!_

The alpha stepped inside without bothering to close the door behind him. Dean was chained to the floor by the collar around his neck so he couldn’t get out even if he tried. Not that he would. Where would he go?

The alpha crouched and patted Dean’s head. “You missed me, huh? What a needy little bitch you are.”

Dean pushed into the man’s hand. He knew this alpha. He brought the food. Maybe if Dean pleased him, he would come back with something for Dean to eat. 

“Does the little bitch want my knot? Do ya, little bitch?”

Dean nodded frantically. 

The alpha stopped petting him and reached down to pinch one of Dean’s nipples. A thin line of milk squirted out in an arch and Dean whimpered. His nipples were excruciatingly sensitive when he was lactating.

“You look about ready to burst,” the alpha observed offhandedly and casually gave the nipple a twist. More milk sprayed and Dean trembled just slightly at the increased pain.

Suddenly, the man’s hand engulfed Dean’s swollen pectoral tissue in a fist and bore down, nails biting into his skin. Dean squealed and his arms flailed uselessly.

The alpha released his grip, chuckling. Then he slapped Dean across the face with a milk-wet palm. When the stars cleared from his vision, Dean saw the man was still smiling.

“Present!” the alpha ordered in a jovial tone.

Dean turned and dropped his head between his spread palms, arching his rear into the air as high as he could. The position bared his hole and flashed his slit, the outwardly defining physical trait of a male omega. It was small, barely an inch long, and split his perineum from balls to anus. 

The slit wasn’t like a female’s vagina. It wasn’t another hole to fuck. Until childbirth, it didn’t even open. You couldn’t put anything in it, unless you were trying to rupture something. His instructors had equated it to trying to fuck someone’s belly button. But alphas still liked it when omegas presented, liked seeing the slit before they fucked their hole.

“Nice little slut,” the alpha muttered. Dean heard the sound of a belt buckle being undone. Fear and hope circled in his mind. Was the alpha going to fuck him or beat him? Both?

He felt the blunt head of the alpha’s cock being lined up at his hole. Dean forced himself to relax every muscle in his body. The alpha sank to the hilt inside him with a throaty groan. The burn was so familiar that Dean barely grunted.

After a few short thrusts, his body began to lubricate. Slick eased the slide of the man’s cock.

“Look at that, wet for me already. You like it, you filthy omega slut. All you omegas just love having a cock in your hole.”

Dean silently ignored this falsehood. He knew omegas were supposed to like it. But rarely did fucking not hurt and even then, it was only because he’d been rode so hard and for so long that his ass was numb from the inside out. Regardless, Dean moaned and tried to force his shaky body to rock back into the penetration.

The thrusts became longer, harder. The alpha grabbed his hips and began slamming into him. Dean’s hands scrambled, trying to find purchase as his body jerked and flopped but soon his face was pressed to the floor. His legs barely kept his back end up.

Eventually, Dean felt the alpha’s knot catching at the rim of his hole as it began to swell. The man’s thrusts changed until he was rubbing only the head of his cock inside Dean’s channel. This kept up for several moments until the knot had time to swell to its full size. Dean bit his lip. He knew what came next.

Finally, the alpha slid deeper, the wider girth of his knot coming up short against Dean’s already stretched hole. He ground Dean back against him, forcing Dean’s rim to expand around his knot. 

Dean’s back arched against the white-hot pain. He let out a short scream that was lost amongst the cries and other sounds of sex that almost always filled the building.

The knot pressed all the way in. Dean slumped. The alpha’s hips stuttered as he came. When the man finished, he didn’t wait for the swelling to go down before he ripped his knot out. 

Exhausted, Dean could only moan. He felt warmth slide down his thigh and wondered if it was blood or semen.

The alpha slapped him on the ass. “That was quite the send off, huh?”

Dean’s legs collapsed and he slumped to the side. It took a moment for the alpha’s words to penetrate his pain-hazed brain. Send off? This was it, Dean realized. He was going to be put down.

The alpha nudged between Dean’s legs with the toe of his boot. Dean tensed but forced himself not to reach down to protect his flaccid penis. In his experience, doing that only made alphas pay more attention to the sensitive area. 

When Dean didn’t react, the alpha stepped back and did his pants back up. Dean listened, more numb than scared, as the leather was threaded through the buckle and cinched tight.

Would the alpha do it now? Dean knew from the academy that omegas were normally put down in a humane fashion with drugs, the way people put down any sick pet. That sounded sort of nice. Just a poke with a needle and Dean would fall asleep. He would never have to wake up again.

The man’s boots moved out of Dean’s line of sight. 

“Oh yeah,” the alpha muttered. “One last thing.”

The man left the cell. Dean turned his head just enough that he could see. The alpha returned moments later with the milking machine. A nauseating mix of contradictory relief and disappointment spiralled through Dean at the sight. He wasn’t going to be dying today. Not right now, at least.

The man set the machine down at the back of the cell and prodded Dean onto all fours. He flicked the switch to turn it on and the machine began to hum noisily. Then he stuck the pumps onto both of Dean’s slightly swollen pectorals where they promptly suctioned into place. Dean winced at the pull on his nipples. Immediately, milk began to flow through the tubing.

With one last slap to Dean’s rear, the alpha wandered out.

The minute he was gone, Dean hung his head and let his body tremble. The lack of food had sapped his strength. His exposed, aching hole stung. Looking down the line of his body, he saw that there wasn’t a whole lot of blood mixed with the cum leaking down his inner thighs. The last alpha who’d pulled out like that must have had a much bigger knot because Dean remembered being ripped up pretty bad. This time Dean thought there was probably only a small tear, nothing all that concerning.

It didn’t take too long for his milk ducts to drain. The alpha came back and unhooked him and Dean crawled into the corner, the chain links hissing as they dragged over the vinyl floor. He curled on his side, pulling his blanket over to keep his feet warm. But the effort was wasted because it was only minutes later that the alpha was back again.

When his cell door opened, Dean snapped his head up. Fear send his heart into a mad gallop. Were they going to do it now? He suddenly wasn’t so sure he liked the prospect of dying. He could still be useful, couldn’t he? He was big for an omega. He could do labour! All they needed to do was give him a little more food and he’d be good to go. Dean rose to his knees and plastered himself to the back wall.

But instead of the expected needle, the alpha was wielding a dolly. He used it to maneuver a large plastic omega crate into place. Dean blinked. Before he’d had time to process what was happening, his collar was being unlocked and the alpha was pointing into the crate. “Get in.”

Dean scuttled forward as quickly as his weakened body could, the metal grate being snapped closed after him. Inside, the crate was slightly wet like it had been rinsed just before the alpha brought it. It still smelled slightly of another omega. Dean was jostled, his shoulder taking the brunt of it, as the crate was tilted sideways on the dolly.

He stared out of the grate as he was wheeled past cell after cell. He caught split second glimpses of the others, omegas he had lived side by side with but rarely seen. It was like seeing snapshots of his own life, flashing before his eyes. There was a young, fresh faced omega, his eyes big and full of bright terror and confusion. A girl, on her back and gasping as an alpha knotted her. An omega that might have been only a year or so younger than Dean with glazed over eyes, a swollen belly and the purplish imprints of fingerprints around his jaw. The next was sleeping, blanket pulled around thin shoulders. Another, crowded into a corner by a wide-framed man who’s ass flexed repeatedly as he fucked up into the faceless omega’s body. 

Then they were going through a door. Sunlight blinded him. The sudden fresh air was like a slap. It highlighted just how strongly the scents of heat, aggression, slick, lust and fear had saturated the air before. Dean squinted but by the time he could see again, the dolly was being pushed up a ramp. The crate was set down none too gently and Dean banged his shoulder again.

The alpha’s footsteps retreated down the ramp with hollow clangs. There was the sound of metal sliding against metal, then two bangs that echoed loudly in the dark space he’d been taken to. When an engine rumbled to life and the floor began to vibrate, he realized he was in the back of a truck.

As the truck began to move, Dean shook in the dark and wondered what would happen now.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel parked in the guest lot of the Novak Omega Academy. It being early on a Monday morning, the lot was nearly deserted. He slid out of the car and looked around, mildly impressed despite himself. The elegant building was two stories tall and had beautiful flower beds raised on either side of the wide walkup. 

The entrance was glass and opened into a luxurious lobby with thirty foot ceilings. Castiel’s footsteps were clear and loud as he strode across to where a secretary sat behind a tall desk. The woman stood and walked out to greet him. She wore high heels, a navy pencil skirt and a white blouse. Her lipsticked mouth smiled but her eyes stayed professional behind her large, square-framed glasses. She held out her manicured hand and Castiel shook.

“Dr. Novak, welcome. I hope you found us alright.”

“Thank you. It was nothing my GPS couldn’t handle.”

“Good! Mr. Novak said this was a belated birthday present when I spoke with him on the phone. Have you ever owned an omega before?”

“No, I never had the time.” 

When Castiel had been in medical school, he’d lived on campus where they had a firm no pets policy. Then he’d spent seven years as a resident and he’d practically lived at the hospital. Afterward, he’d opened his clinic and all his time and energy had gone into getting it up and running smoothly.

“Dr. Novak, owning an omega should never be something that takes up your time,” the woman chided with a smile. “A good omega is simply there for your comfort and convenience.”

Castiel just nodded. He’d heard the sales line before.

“Shall we?” 

“Yes, thank you.”

The woman led the way. Her heels clicked smartly with every step. She was a beta. Oh, she aped alpha-hood very well but Castiel had her pegged. In was in her scent and in the way she let him prowl several steps behind. Another alpha would have walked beside him.

“What is your name?” Castiel asked, remembering his manners at last. “You didn’t say.”

She cast another practiced smile back at him over her shoulder. “I’m Katherine, Customer Relations Expert for this academy. The viewing room is just through here.”

Katherine had taken him down a wide hallway branching from the lobby. The door she indicated looked identical to the others they’d passed aside from the small silver plaque etched with the word _Viewing_ affixed at head height.

“We have a fairly wide selection right now,” she said, rapping twice on the door. She opened it a moment later and gestured for him to proceed.

“After you,” Castiel said, offering her the smile his nurses had called _charming_.

She entered the room first but cast him a knowing glance. Refusing to allow someone at his back was a very _alpha_ thing to do.

Inside, the lighting changed from simple overhead fixtures to a warmer, more dynamic atmosphere. Wall scones flared to the left and right while recessed lighting glowed gently from above. Additional fixtures resembling art pieces more than floor lamps created dimension where they lit a loose sitting area.

Castiel’s attention was immediately drawn between the black leather couches where a line of omegas knelt, eyes lowered, on a plush rug. He blinked. They were so _little_.

“Here they are,” Katherine said, smiling. She walked over and raked her manicured nails through the hair of one of the females. The omega pushed up into the caress. “Feel free to take your time. Is there something in particular you’re looking for?”

Castiel moved forward slowly. “I’m not sure. How old are they?”

“Between eleven and thirteen years old. They only come up for sale once they’ve gone through their first heat.” 

Castiel frowned, raking his gaze over the naked omegas. While his family had owned omegas throughout his childhood, he’d never been involved in the process of choosing one. He considered how to proceed.

Katherine, perhaps sensing his hesitation, moved to sit on the edge of the love seat. She crossed one shapely leg over the other. “It’s a big decision,” she said, “bringing an omega into your home. Please take your time and feel free to interact. I’m here if you have any questions.”

Castiel nodded. He approached the omega at the end of the line closest to him. “Stand up.”

The female stood slowly, rising in an obviously practiced movement. The top of her head came up to just below his sternum. Castiel looked her over from head to toe. She had black hair falling in a thick sheet to her collarbones; it was dramatic and the first thing he noticed about her. Her bronze skin was without a single blemish. He tried to see her sexually but her body was thin and coltish, and her chest merely hinted at developing breasts.

Castiel leaned close and inhaled through his mouth and nose. She smelled like an omega—like something tasty to lick and hold close—but mostly she smelled anxious. When he cupped her chin and turned her face up to meet his, that anxiety bloomed into fear. He looked for a moment into her dark eyes, noticing the pouty mouth and broad cheekbones, and released her. The omega immediately dropped her head.

Castiel moved on to the omega next to her. “Do they have names?” he asked after he’d told the boy to stand.

“They have names given to them in training but you can, of course, choose a new one,” Katherine said.

He cupped the boy’s chin like he had the other omega’s. He was shorter than the first, with pale skin containing a cool undertone. Castiel bet he would burn in the sun. “What’s your name?” 

“Jakob,” the boy said. His voice was high, a child’s voice. Internally, Castiel cringed. Regardless, he leaned over and sniffed close to Jakob’s face. The boy watched him with vacant blue-grey eyes, like he was thinking far away thoughts. Again, Castiel was rewarded with the same omega scent, though with different undertones, but no strong emotions. 

The next omega was called Cindy. She was tallest of the bunch so far, nearing mid-chest on him. Her curly hair was dark blonde and she had large, chocolate brown eyes that blinked innocently up at him. Her scent was sweet and had a lingering undertone of arousal that made him realize she had probably finished her first heat very recently. Inhaling that scent, Castiel felt a faint, answering tug below his naval.

He skimmed his hand over her perfectly smooth cheek and down her neck. He lingered over her collarbone, taking in the rest of her. Her breasts were pointy mounds, barely a suggestion, but her pubic mound had sparse blonde hair covering it. Her lean legs were lightly muscled while her feet were surprisingly large. She had an irregularly shaped brown birthmark on her right wrist, like an oversized freckle. 

She was lovely…but in a way that made Castiel think she’d be gorgeous in five to ten years. Did he want to buy an omega he’d have to wait half a decade to find sexually attractive?

He knew of course that omegas became sexually mature earlier than people did. Once they went through estrus, they actively sought sexual partners. There was nothing wrong with it. But there was something off-putting about the fact that they looked like they could have been classmates of his ten-year-old niece. 

Trying to set that thought aside, he stepped back. When Cindy didn’t immediately drop her gaze, Katherine cleared her throat. The omega looked at the floor. A charming blush climbed up her neck.

“Cindy,” Castiel said, resisting the urge to glance at Katherine, “Present.”

The female omega immediately turned and dropped to all fours. She pressed her face to the floor and raised her ass into the air. The position flashed her furled asshole and closed labia, characteristic to omega genitalia. With a tremble and a subtle roll of her hips, her labia opened like a flower spreading its petals to reveal the soft, pink parts hidden within.

All Castiel’s mind could come up with in response was that she wasn’t all that different from a beta woman. He didn’t think Katherine would appreciate him saying so though and kept the thought to himself.

After a moment, he allowed Cindy to return to her kneeling position and stepped up to the next omega in line. This one was lanky and dark skinned, his curly black hair cropped close to his skull. His brown eyes were flecked with green and his lips were full and pouty. Castiel put his hand on the boy’s chest and found the contrast between their skin tones interesting.

“Your name?”

“Tanner.”

Despite his height, Tanner smelled very young underneath the notes of excited omega drifting off him. The excitement certainly wasn’t sexual either. He smelled like a kid offered the chance to go somewhere new and potentially fun. 

Castiel withdrew his hand, curling it into a frustrated fist at his side. He looked to his left where the two remaining omegas knelt. Their underdeveloped bodies were not enticing in the least. When he’d come here, he’d known intellectually that the omegas would look young but he’d thought knowing they were sexually mature would override that aversion. Apparently not.

Castiel wanted a bed partner, a helper, and perhaps a child or two of his own in the next few years. These omegas were practically babies. They were the sort of thing a parent would buy as a gift for a young teenager. 

He turned on his heel to face Katherine.

“Have you made your decision then?” she asked.

“I don’t think any of these omegas are the right fit,” he hedged, trying to be diplomatic.

Katherine frowned, an expression that revealed lines around her mouth and eyes that he hadn’t noticed before. He mentally bumped her age up from early thirties to nearly forty. “These six are the extent of our inventory in this age cohort,” she said apologetically. “You would have to either travel to another academy or look through the online catalogue.”

“It’s actually their age I’m having trouble with.”

“I could bring out some of the younger omegas,” she said slowly. “Are you planning on doing your own customized training? That can be a very rewarding endeavour certainly, but I have to warn you that it’s time consuming. The omegas you’ve looked at here are very obedient and trained to adapt to your personal preferences.” 

“Thank you, but no,” Castiel said very firmly. “That’s not what I meant at all. I would actually prefer to see a selection of _older_ omegas.”

Katherine looked faintly surprised. “Older? Again, my apologies, Dr. Novak. We don’t stock _older_ omegas. None of the academies do.”

Castiel resisted the urge to sigh. He would have truly preferred to see and scent an omega in person before bringing it home. “Could you show me the online catalogue then?”

Katherine’s brow furrowed in thought. “The catalogue only shows the omegas in stock at the academies so that wouldn’t work…but I _could_ let you have a look through the directory.” She sounded dubious about the prospect.

“What is the directory?”

“It’s an accounting of all producing omega livestock owned by Novak Industries. The omegas are academy trained but were cycled back to the farms for one reason or another.” She shrugged delicately. “It’s usually the mature, unsold omegas at year end who get transferred.”

Castiel hesitated. “I could choose an omega from this directory?”

“If it’s one of the older ones you’re interested in, yes.”

Castiel agreed that he would like to take a look and Katherine led him back to the lobby. She slipped behind the desk and wiggled the mouse to clear the bubble screensaver from her computer monitor. The monitor was turned so he could also see it from his side of the desk if he leaned forward slightly. Her fingers skated rapidly across the keyboard, too fast for him to catch her password.

When the desktop appeared, it had the company logo as the background: a stylized image of a capital N merged with a capital I. She double clicked on an application shortcut and the screen that appeared was white and utilitarian, clearly intended for internal use rather than for sales. She tapped out a username and password into the appropriate dialogue boxes and then hit enter. 

When the new screen loaded, Katherine hummed, clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth in thought, and began to customize a search.

When the results appeared, there were one hundred and three in total. Katherine clicked on the first result. This brought up a series of three images; one with an omega facing forward, a second of his face in profile, and the third delivered a full body frontal. 

She turned the monitor and slid to him the ergonomic mousepad and accompanying wireless mouse.

“Go ahead and click through. If something catches your eye, I’ll note it. Once we’ve got it narrowed down, you can go over your top choices.” She decisively uncapped a fountain pen and held it poised over a notepad.

Castiel agreed. Browsing through the images, he noticed that many did not have the same physical perfection of the young ones he’d viewed earlier. There were omegas with scars, and many had stretch marks. Some had less classically beautiful facial features such as too wide mouths, or weak chins, or squinty eyes. Despite the obvious signs of previous pregnancy, none of omegas carried extra baby fat. In fact, they uniformly toed the line separating _lean_ from _too skinny_. 

He had only, with great reservation, picked two omegas from the bunch for Katherine to record when he found he was nearing the end of the queue. He clicked past an oriental omega with black hair and sunken cheeks. 

Perhaps he should just find a nice beta woman to settle down with? Castiel clicked again.

So what if the birthrate was low? They could adopt like most people. In fact, Castiel could go to one of the birthing farms and breed an omega there himself.

A companion and children, that was what he wanted, wasn’t it? Owning an omega wasn’t necessary for that to become reality.

Castiel’s attention abruptly snapped back to the computer screen. The omega in the picture was outrageous. The fluffy, dark brown hair stuck up at odd angles, contrasting with the pasty pale skin. The jaw was slightly asymmetrical and the chin was stubborn. And just above was the terribly adorable button-like nose. But the eyes, blazing and framed with dark, lace-like lashes, were like drowning pools of green.

Castiel dragged his gaze away from those eyes to see the same features in profile, noting the ridiculously plush pink lips. 

The full body picture showed the omega was whip lean, his frame pared down to the very essentials. There was a scar snaking over one shoulder and another curling around his ribs on the opposite side. Castiel imagined the omega with a bit more meat. It was an appealing image.

It surprised him when Castiel noticed the omega’s genitals. His penis, though soft, was fairly sized. It fell gently to one side, the sheathed tip touching his thigh. Rare was the male omega whose penis was little more than vestigial. 

“Mr. Novak?” Katherine queried, breaking him from his thoughts. “Would you like me to add this one to the list?” 

Castiel realized he’d been staring at the screen for several long minutes without clicking or speaking.

“This omega,” Castiel said, glancing at Katherine. She had a patient, expectant look on her face. “I want to know about him.”

Katherine leaned forward. “If I may?” she said, gesturing at the mouse. Castiel allowed her control of it. She scrolled down passed the trio of pictures, revealing dense lines of text. Each entry was dated but that was nearly all that Castiel could understand; the entries were full of shorthand and jargon.

The third entry down read, _10/11/09. Cond Y-Sc(hld)-An(min tr)-Brsg(min). Preg conf. 2 poten. Rat BID. Vit q2d._

Aside from a bit of out of context medical jargon, it was complete gibberish to him.

“From what I see here, this omega is twenty years old and was cycled into the Farm in Kansas nine years ago.” Her eyes roved back and forth over the text and she hummed. Castiel wondered if she actually understood it.

“The pictures were taken four months ago. At that time, the omega’s condition was ranked as yellow due to the scarring which is old. Two weeks ago he was reevaluated and was ranked yellow again. This means the pictures are an accurate representation.” She scrolled a little more. Her eyebrows rose slightly. “He’s rather tall, six foot one.” 

Castiel blinked. “That’s unexpected.”

Katherine nodded. “It’s unusual but it does happen. Is that a problem?”

He considered it. “No.” In fact, the idea of dominating such a large omega held appeal. He would be bigger than Castiel himself. He repressed a shiver.

A small smile slid across Katherine’s face. “I think we have a winner,” she said and her voice held carefully muted excitement, as if she wanted to squeal and clap her hands. Her enthusiasm seemed genuine and Castiel belatedly realized she was an excellent sales woman. “Do you still want to take a second look at the other two you were interested in?”

Castiel waved his hand in dismissal. “No, thank you, this is the one I want.”

She beamed her professional smile at him. “Wonderful! He is quite lovely despite those scars. I think you’ve made a fantastic choice, Dr. Novak. Now all we need to do is fill out the paperwork, so to speak.” Katherine turned her computer back toward her side of the desk. “I need to see two pieces of ID, please.”

It took a solid twenty minutes to finish the tedious process of answering all of Katherine’s questions and signing off via signature pad on various legal documents. Katherine apologized for the delay and explained that, because he had chosen an omega from the directory, she had to manually fill in a lot of the information.

Castiel assured her that he understood. He’d taken the day off in anticipation of taking his new omega home with him so he wasn’t in a rush. Although it looked like he’d have time to go in for a few hours after lunch if he wanted. His omega would be shipped directly to his house in the next day or so. 

“This is normally where we’d arrange payment,” Katherine said, “but Mr. Novak indicated there’d be no cost. Regardless, simply have a look at that and sign once more on the pad.”

The screen she showed him was the bill. The original price of his omega was over four thousand US dollars. Castiel knew that to be a fraction of the cost of one of the young omegas he’d been shown. It made him squint a little at how generous this gift from his normally tight fisted brother was.

But the total at the bottom did total zero dollars. Shaking his head a little, Castiel signed.


	3. Chapter 3

“Your website _clearly_ states that this clinic is open until four!”

Rachel sucked in air through her nose, lips pursed. “Sir, we are not taking any more patients today. All our appointment slots are filled. As I said, I’m very sorry for the inconvenience.”

The alpha scowled. “I drove all the way over here. If your site says you’re open until _four_ , you should be open until _four_.”

“There are no appointments left today. I’m sorry.”

“I need to see someone today. It won’t take more than five minutes! Just put me at the end of the list.”

“I can’t do that, sir. Look at all the people in the waiting area. They were here first and need to be seen before I get to go home to my kids. We open again tomorrow at nine.”

“You’re telling me to drive back here _again_?”

“If it’s an emergency, you can go to the hospital,” she offered calmly.

“Look, lady, I know what’s wrong with me. I just need some goddamn antibiotics. I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

“You could try another clinic.”

“It’s Sunday. Everything is already closed! That’s why I came _here_ , because _your website_ says you are open until _four_.”

The burnt musk smell of a furious alpha reached Castiel’s nose. He tucked the clipboard he’d been writing a prescription on under his arm. Then he stepped out from behind the open door he’d been using as cover and approached the front desk.

“Sir,” he said, catching the alpha’s eye. “We cannot see you today. There is no changing that fact.”

The alpha looked him up and down. His nostrils flared. “You’re the doctor, aren’t you? Look, I just need some antibiotics. Write out a prescription and I will be out of your hair.”

Castiel resisted the urge to snarl. It had been one of those days. But snarling would probably scare the many betas in his waiting room. Keeping eye contact, he said, “Come back tomorrow after nine. I will see you and write the prescription then.”

The man’s nose wrinkled, showing a hint of teeth. “No, that’s outrageous! It won’t take any time at all for you to just…” He gestured angrily at the clipboard. “And it’ll take me twenty minutes to drive here and another twenty to drive home. I also have to work tomorrow morning!”

“Would you stop wasting the doctor’s time?” someone said loudly from the waiting area. “We’re all waiting to see him and you’re making us wait longer!”

There was a low chorus of grumbled agreement for the other patients and their family members.

“Mind you own business!” the man barked back.

Good god. There was going to be a brawl in his waiting room. A low grade headache began to pound at the back of Castiel’s skull.

Without looking away from the other man, Castiel addressed his nurse, “Rachel, call the police. Tell them there is an angry alpha in the clinic demanding I give him drugs and yelling at the other patients.”

“Yes, Dr. Novak.” Rachel slipped behind the desk and picked up the phone.

The man reared back. “What? No!” He held his hands up toward Rachel in a placating gesture. She paused with her hand poised to dial. “Fine, fine! I’ll go. I’ll go!” He turned around and pushed on the glass doors.

Then, over his shoulder, he added, “You’re never getting my business again! And I’m certainly going to write a review about _this_ place.” He sneered and stomped out toward the parking lot.

Someone clapped which prompted an ironic smattering of applause and cheering from the waiting area. 

“My apologies, ladies and gentlemen. We are trying to get everyone seen as quickly as possible,” Castiel said to the room at large before rapidly retreating to the exam rooms.

***

At first glance, Castiel estimated the girl waiting to see him to be fifteen or sixteen years old. She had fair skin and blonde hair tied up in a ponytail.

“Hello, Beverly. I’m Dr. Novak.”

Beverly took a deliberate sniff in his direction. “I thought all the alpha doctors were surgeons.”

Castiel sat down. “Alpha surgeons are very popular on TV medical dramas,” he said. “But I’m a general practitioner.”

She squinted at him. “Why? It doesn’t seem like a job an alpha would like.”

“Some alphas probably wouldn’t like it,” he conceded, “but it’s about perspective.” When she continued to squint at him, he said, “I own this clinic. All of the nurses who work here are my employees and are required to work to my standard. I decide the clinic’s hours. I’m in charge.”

Beverly’s expression cleared. “Oh! I get it.” Then she sniffed at him again.

He raised one eyebrow. “You do know that sniffing people is considered rude?”

Beverly rolled her eyes dramatically. “That’s because it freaks out betas. They don’t like it when alphas remind them that we can smell what they had for breakfast. You’re an alpha. You don’t really care. Besides, you’ve probably sniffed me too.” 

She had a point. Castiel _had_ subtly inhaled her scent. He did that with all his patients. Scent could sometimes provide useful diagnostic information. But they hardly needed to get into a sociological discussion about the mores of betas and their effect on alpha behaviour. He decided to move the conversation along to more salient matters.

“Regardless, what seems to be the problem?” Castiel asked. He pulled up her chart on the computer as Beverly seemed to consider her words.

“I have a…friend,” she began hesitantly.

Castiel nodded in encouragement. If she wanted to pretend she was talking about someone else, that was fine. Whatever the issue was, she was probably embarrassed. Mentally, Castiel began reviewing the symptoms of commonly contracted STI’s.

“She’s been throwing up a lot and seems weaker than usual.”

That wasn’t quite what he’d been expecting. “Does she have any rashes?”

Beverly shook her head. “No.”

“Does she have a fever? Sweating?”

“No.”

“Have you—I mean, has she been eating anything different lately?”

Beverly took a moment to think about it. “No, nothing.”

“When did the vomiting first start?”

“About three weeks ago. Every morning she wakes up and runs right to the bathroom.” Her mouth twisted in concern.

Castiel’s brow furrowed. He took a deep breath through his nose. Beverly did not smell pregnant. There was no way he would miss the smell of a pregnant alpha. It was far too distinct.

“Does the vomiting only happen in the morning?”

“Yes.” Then Beverly’s eyes grew round, her thoughts belatedly following the same path Castiel’s had already taken. “But she can’t be pregnant!” she burst out.

Castiel finally realized that Beverly was not actually talking about herself in the third person. He turned to face her fully.

“Beverly, if it’s your friend who’s sick, she needs to come in.”

“No, you don’t understand! She can’t be pregnant. I haven’t had my first rut yet. I don’t knot!”

Castiel resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You’re sexually active with this person? Is she your girlfriend?”

Beverly hesitated and Castiel wondered which question she was having trouble with. “Sort of,” she said slowly.

“You’re having penetrative sex with this person?”

To this, she nodded firmly, a blush rising in her cheeks. “Yes.”

Castiel deduced from this firm pronouncement that it had been his second question about their relationship status that Beverly didn’t have a clear answer for. 

He pressed his lips together in thought. In this situation, he couldn’t legally make any comment on her friend’s condition. He couldn’t have said anything even if he’d been said friend’s doctor and known her condition for sure. But he was Beverly’s doctor.

“Beverly, were you and this friend using protection? By which I mean condoms.” It was best to be clear, especially with teenagers. They had a tendency for prevarication.

Beverly blinked. “No, but it’s not like that! You see…um…” She trailed off, looking uncertain.

“If you and your friend have been having unprotected sex while she might have been having unprotected sex with other people, it’s possible she’s passed an STI on to you.” Castiel turned back to his computer and deleted what he’d originally written. He typed in the pertinent information regarding Beverly. “I want to refer you to have your blood tested.”

Beverly made a frustrated noise. When Castiel looked at her, she was chewing on her bottom lip. “She’s my omega,” she said in a rush. Then she stared at him anxiously. 

Castiel paused. “I see.” That did change things a bit. He wouldn’t land himself in hot legal waters if he speculated about an omega’s possible pregnancy. But his main concern, his only concern really, remained Beverly.

“So she can’t be pregnant. I don’t share her. She’s got some other illness,” Beverly said insistently. “Can I bring her here so you can look at her? I promise she’s really well behaved. I can dress her up so no one can tell she’s an omega from a distance. And I can come early, before the clinic opens! I promise I can pay. In cash even, so it’s off the books,” she said. The girl was babbling.

Castiel sighed and finally gave in to the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. His headache was getting worse.

“Please, I don’t want her to die! My mom won’t let me take her to a vet and besides, animal clinics aren’t good with omegas.”

“Beverly, it sounds like your omega is pregnant. I can think of no illness that fits the symptoms you described. If you haven’t had your first alpha rut yet, then you’re not the one who got her pregnant. I know you said you don’t share but was there any time in the last month or two when you left your omega alone somewhere? Omegas are very promiscuous. There’s every chance she might have…”

“No!” Beverly said with an angry shake of her head. “No, she wouldn’t do something like that. Please, would you just see her.” 

“I’m sorry your pet is sick but I only treat _people_ here. Look,” he said, “I still want you to get the blood tests. Omegas are resistant to a lot of sexually transmitted infections but they can still transfer bacteria from person to person.”

Beverly growled. The smell of frustrated, angry alpha began to fill Castiel’s nose for the second time that evening. She hopped off the exam table and slammed out of the room with all the noise and bluster her slender teenage body could manage.

Had Castiel really been thinking the other day that he wanted kids? Gah.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time the clinic was closing, Castiel was beyond ready to go home. He waved goodbye to Rachel and slid into his car. The interior was scorching hot after a day in the summer sun and he immediately rolled down all four windows, hoping for a cross breeze while the AC gained traction.

It was only when he was pulling out of the parking lot that he finally allowed himself to think about the delivery that would be arriving shortly. 

Anticipation built at the base of his spine and he resisted the urge to press down harder on the gas pedal. The estimated delivery time, emailed to him along with all of his new omega’s documentation, was between five and six pm. That would give him at least fifteen minutes to make sure everything was prepared.

However, when he unlocked and opened his front door at quarter to five, the acrid smell of urine billowed out to greet him. Castiel grimaced, turning his head aside to suck in a fresher breath. He took a moment to steel himself before entering. 

Castiel’s home was admittedly larger than any single person needed. It was a modern two-story house with neo-eclectic style architecture but he liked having the space. 

The front door opened into a spacious foyer with a double set of closet doors to the left and a padded bench seat to the right. He took the time to sit down and remove his shoes, mentally cataloguing the scents he could detect under the urine smell.

His housekeeper, Esmerelda, had been in. The light touch of her lavender perfume was nearly lost under the less pleasant odours of pee and floor wax. Esmerelda was short and robust, a forty-something Mexican immigrant. Her English was a work in progress but Castiel’s Spanish was enough that they were able to muddle through.

She was also an exceptional housekeeper. Castiel had given her a key so she could come over while he was at work. It occurred to him suddenly that Esmerelda could be injured. If it had happened in the morning, perhaps she’d been trapped for hours, unable to reach a bathroom. 

He ran toward the smell of urine and nearly fell when his socked feet slipped on his freshly waxed hardwood floor. The near miss leant credence to his fears. He skidded around a corner, bringing the bulk of his living room into view.

There were signs of Esmerelda’s deft hand everywhere. The throw pillows on his dark grey couch were plumped and arranged artfully. Evidence of recent vacuuming lined the white rug. The antique chest of drawers below the flat screen TV was free of dust and clutter. The plush, circular coffee table supported a tray, the edge of which was perfectly parallel with the couch. Fresh cut flowers filled a decorative vase. But to Castiel’s relief, he did not see the woman herself sprawled unconscious on the floor.

Instead, there was a box of rough lumber. It had an arrow and the words, this side up, stamped on one end. It was parked next to the side table where a half-dead aloe vera plant was recovering from its stint in a gas station convenience store. The box, which was indeed the source of the terrible urine smell, had not been there when he’d left for work.

Castiel circled it warily, nose wrinkled, and spotted a sticky note on top. The note read, _Came in morning for you. I signed for but delivery man no say what is inside. I tell him to leave here—Esmerelda._

Castiel dropped the note next to the aloe vera. He listened. Sure enough, once focused he could hear the whispery sound of shallow breathing and a thrumming heartbeat. 

His omega had arrived early. 

Annoyed that the delivery service hadn’t seen fit to call him about the change, he breathed out sharply.

Castiel took a moment to consider how he should go about extracting his undoubtedly urine-soaked new omega without making an even bigger mess. Then, deciding a few extra minutes wouldn’t hurt the situation, he changed into a pair of old blue jeans and a v-neck t-shirt. He returned to the living room with an armful of towels.

He laid out two of the towels protectively on the floor. The box he opened via a removable panel. He caught a glimpse of a metal grate and the smell of urine got stronger. Castiel leaned down to get a better look.

Inside the wooden box was a crate, like a kennel you’d keep for a big dog. He peered into the deep shadow at the back of the crate. He got an impression of long, pale limbs wrapped about a hunched figure. Poor thing, he thought. The omega had clearly been in the box for so long his bladder had let loose. He felt another flash of annoyance at the delivery service.

Castiel cleared his throat. “Hello there.” 

In response, there was a sharp movement and the sound of wet skin against plastic. 

He made sure the towel was in place and patted it. “You can come out now.”

A moment passed. Then, with weak, shaky movements, a half-starved _thing_ crawled out of the box. Castiel could do nothing but stare, appalled.

The omega was skin and bones. It crouched on all fours, knees tucked against its stomach with heels and palms on the towel-covered floor. He could count the knobs of its curved spine. Its hair was a limp, tangled mess that looked wet—and Castiel hoped it was just oily and not full of urine. But the worst thing—the worst thing was the _scars_. The omega’s back was a mass of thick, white scars, crisscrossing like the old children’s game of pick up sticks.

The omega had been whipped within an inch of its life.

Surely this wasn’t the tall, beautiful omega Castiel had chosen? 

“Look at me,” Castiel said, his voice hoarse with shock.

The omega glanced up. Its skin was drawn tight, its cheekbones and jaw too sharp. There was a bruise in the shape of a handprint on one cheek.  
The afternoon sun spilling in through the big bay windows fell across the omega’s face. Its pupils constricted and Castiel recognized those eyes. They were dull and unfocused but their green hue was unmistakable.

Reeling, Castiel struggled with his shattered expectations. Disappointment filled him. He felt cheated. Revulsion was close on its heels. The omega was dirty, unappealing on a visceral level.

He eyed the contemptible thing. 

The omega was showing classic signs of undernourishment. It was a relief when Castiel’s doctor brain began to automatically categorize symptoms and appropriate treatment. He allowed his emotional turmoil to be shunted to the side and walked briskly into his kitchen.

The omega was dehydrated. He pulled out the water bottle he used at the gym but decided it would be most expedient if he gave the omega something with calories and electrolytes. 

There was a bottle of blue gatorade in his fridge but Castiel remembered just in time that an omega’s digestive system couldn’t handle refined sugars. His researching spree over the last few days had revealed that a diet high in protein, fat and raw vegetable fibre was optimal. He switched his attention to the soup ingredients he’d been planning on cooking for dinner.

The chicken stock was homemade. Deciding it would do, he removed the plastic wrap and stuck the bowl in the microwave just long enough to take the chill off. 

When he returned to the living room, it was to find the omega in the exact same position where he’d left it. The omega was still trembling. Castiel realized that with its low body fat, his comfortably air conditioned home probably felt like an ice box.

Castiel shook the bottle once to make sure there weren’t any hot spots in the broth and then crouched on the balls of his feet. The omega didn’t look at him. He popped open the spout and held it out. He had to clear his throat once before he could speak. “Drink this.”

With shaky hands, the omega took the bottle from him. It stared and started to shake even harder. Castiel thought he could smell the sour-sweet tang of fear start to rise under the stink of urine. Finally, the omega put the spout to his cracked lips. The bottle wasn’t tilted so Castiel knew nothing came out.

The shaking grew so strong that the omega’s grip was lost and the bottle started to fall. Castiel saw it coming and his hand flashed out. The omega cowered like it expected to be struck. Castiel waited until a single green eye peeked at him. Then he mimed tilting the bottle and drinking from it. 

“Try again,” he ordered without heat.

The omega did so and Castiel watched its eyes widen at the taste. The second draw was stronger and its throat flexed with every swallow. Castiel figured the broth had been deemed acceptable.

The strong odour of urine was bringing back Castiel’s headache. His first order of business was to get the omega cleaned up. Then he would have to deal with the crate.

Castiel sighed. In the back of his mind, he again heard Katherine’s gently chiding voice. _Owning an omega should never be something that takes up your time_. Oh, the irony.

He considered the most expedient way to get the omega into a tub. Then he grimaced, realizing his en suite bathroom was his best option. But did Castiel really want a dirty, piss-covered omega in his personal tub?

Needs must, he decided. Then he grimaced again. He was going to have to carry the omega unless he wanted to re-mop. Using a towel as a semi-effective barrier, Castiel picked the omega up bridal-style. 

He grunted a little as he straightened. The omega, despite being underweight, was not _small_. But Castiel was strong enough that carrying his burden to the opposite side of his house wasn’t too difficult.

The omega didn’t look around as they moved. It kept its head tilted down, the bottle clutched in a white-knuckled grip against its chest. Its entire body had a waiting kind of tense stillness. 

The master bathroom had two sink vanities, a glass walk-in shower, and a free-standing tub. The toilet was in its own separate, smaller room. Castiel strode across the grey brick-style tile floor and deposited the omega, towel and all, in the porcelain tub.

The omega shivered.

Castiel pointed the pull out sprayer away from the omega as he quickly adjusted the temperature. Then he started to spray the omega down.   
At the first touch of the water, which was set to a moderate pressure, the omega flinch badly. It had to catch itself on the edge of the tub. Then it seemed to recover and even began leaning toward the warm spray. The water that swirled down the drain wasn’t too horribly discoloured, proving that at some point in the not so distant past, the omega _had_ been bathed.

After a few minutes, the water began to run clear and Castiel turned off the sprayer. This elicited a tiny whine of protest followed by a cessation of breathing. The breathing only started up again when Castiel pretended not to have noticed. He blocked the drain and switched from the sprayer to the spout, running more water into the tub. He turned it off when the water was several inches deep.

Castiel took the bottle of broth from the omega and replaced it with a washcloth. The cloth had a dollop of his own scent-neutral body wash on it. For a moment, the omega stared dumbly at the cloth. Then, just when Castiel had decided he was going to have to do this himself too, the omega began to hesitantly rub its arm, building up a lather.

“Wash your whole body,” Castiel said. “I’ll be back.”

He left the broth bottle on the ledge behind the tub and went back to the living room. He managed to get the crate out of the wooden box which thankfully had a solid plastic bottom; none of the urine had leaked out.  
Keeping the crate level, he carried it out into his backyard and let it drain into the dirt behind his shed where that much ammonia wouldn’t kill his grass. He set the crate down and planned to deal with it again later.

When he returned to the bathroom, it was to find the omega smeared completely with a thin layer of suds except where its body rested in the water. It had even scrubbed its hair and face. The omega had its eyes slit to keep the soap out.

_At least it will follow orders_ , Castiel thought, unstoppering the tub and turning on the sprayer. He rinsed the omega down and then decided, what the hell; if he wanted the omega completely clean, he’d have to use shampoo on that scraggly hair. He squirted some on the top of the omega’s head. At the cold sensation, the omega’s shoulders went up around its ears.

“Rub that into your hair. Use your fingertips and nails.”

The omega again started off hesitant but quickly got the hang of the task. When Castiel deemed that there’d been enough scrubbing, he told the omega to close its eyes and unceremoniously rinsed the shampoo out. 

“Get out of the tub,” Castiel commanded once the water was once again shut off.

Immediately, the omega hauled itself over the edge and half-dropped onto the bathmat. It stayed there, down on all fours. Goosebumps rose on its wet flesh.

Castiel resisted the urge to sigh. He thought of the healthy, young omegas he’d rejected for _this_. Free? They should have _paid_ him to take this one.

Putting that thought aside, he decided that he might as well get a better look at what exactly he’d been saddled with.

“Stand up,” Castiel said.

The omega did, rising like a rickety scarecrow. It was shaking again.

“Head up.” 

The omega lifted its chin, eyes staying pinned to the floor. The faint outline of a handprint on one cheek made Castiel frown.

“Shoulders back.”

It uncurled from its protective hunch.

Castiel grabbed a new towel and approached. He started to rub the omega dry, starting with its chest. He took the opportunity to inhale the omega’s scent now that the harsh stink of urine wasn’t drowning it out.

A combination of notes that were distinctly _omega_ rose from its warm, clean skin. There was no hint of the powdery smell of youth. The omega smelled sweet but not cloyingly so, like baking honey bread rolls, except the smell had nothing to do with food. There was also a hint of something not quite like vanilla that was nonetheless a distinctly male scent.

The omega held still as Castiel proceeded to pat down his arms—because with that very masculine aroma filling his nose, Castiel couldn’t continue to think of the omega as _it_.

There was a strong pull of arousal growing in Castiel’s lower stomach. His jeans felt tight. 

He opened his eyes, not having remembered closing them. The omega was subtly leaning away from him. An insidious hint of sourness was beginning to thread through the delicious aroma of male omega. It was like sour candy and made Castiel’s mouth flood with saliva. Despite that instinctive reaction, the knowledge that the omega was _scared_ of him was a dash of cold water on his lust. 

Castiel returned to his business-like task of drying the omega off, cataloguing the injuries he spotted as he went. There was a smattering of fingertip-shaped bruises on the omega’s hips. On his knees, there was more bruising, along with some callouses that indicated the omega had spent a significant amount of time kneeling on hard surfaces. But what concerned Castiel the most was the omega’s shoulder. 

Upon seeing the flattened joint, his gaze flew to the omega’s face. The omega didn’t show any signs of being in pain. There was nothing even in his scent.

Castiel hadn’t noticed it before with the way the omega had hunched forward and kept all his limbs tucked in close, but his left shoulder was definitely dislocated. 

Castiel prodded gently at the location, feeling where the bone sat outside the socket. The omega flinched and then froze. A fine shiver of repressed pain passed over him.

“Your shoulder is dislocated,” Castiel said calmly. “I have to put it back into place.”

The only sign that the omega had heard him was the way he stiffened and his toes curled against the floor. There was no resistance when Castiel began to manipulate the omega’s arm. He bent it, rotated, met resistance, lifted and then— _pop_ , in went the ball back into the socket. 

Instead of screaming, grunting, swearing or crying—all reactions he’d had before—the omega went limp. Castiel barely had time to catch him before he fell and potentially brained himself against the side of the tub.


	5. Chapter 5

_That wasn’t the smartest move on my part_ , Castiel admitted to himself a few minutes later. He had laid the omega amongst the artfully arranged throw pillows on his king sized bed. With the malnutrition, Castiel really should have had the omega sitting down when he relocated his shoulder. 

But what was done was done. Castiel fetched an ice pack from his fridge and put it on the omega’s shoulder wrapped in a dishtowel. Considering his unconscious pet, Castiel flipped one side of his duvet over him. Then he left.  
Castiel took the opportunity to collapse on the sofa in his living room. With the crate outside, only a faint hint of the urine smell lingered in the air.

What was he _doing_? Lucien was probably laughing his ass off. How was it that the one omega Castiel happened to choose ended up being so…damaged?

Frustrated, Castiel got up after only a few spare minutes and went hunting for his cell phone. He found it in the pocket of the kakis he’d tossed in his laundry earlier. 

Still standing in his closet, he went to his contacts, found the person he wanted to yell at, and dialled. 

On the eighth ring, the phone was picked up. A smooth, confident voice flowed out. “Why _hello_ , little brother. Calling to thank me?”

Castiel growled. “Thank you? Ha! What kind of show are you running?”

There was a significant pause. “What _are_ you blathering about, Castiel? I was informed you’d chosen an omega two days ago. I assumed I hadn’t heard from you until now because you’d been too busy playing with your new toy.”

That wasn’t the response Castiel had been expecting. “The omega was delivered today,” he began. 

Lucien clucked his tongue, interrupting. “You chose from the catalogue? Cassy, you should have known better! Never buy sight unseen. What’s the matter with it?”

Castiel grit his teeth at the nickname. “I actually picked one from the directory—”

Again, he was cut off. “Good God, little brother, why in the bloody hell would you do that? After a few years, those little bitches are all used up. No wonder you’re unhappy. What does it do, just lay there and drool as you fuck it?”

Castiel frowned at the crude imagery. He decided to ignore it. “First of all, the shipment didn’t come on time. The omega was dropped off in the morning with my housekeeper. She’s a beta so she just left it unopened in the living room all day. When I came home, the omega had pissed all over itself.”

“Yuck,” Lucien said mildly. “That’s hardly the company’s fault though. We use UPS. Hose the omega off and write a complaint letter.”

“It was also covered in bruises,” Castiel added pointedly. “It had a dislocated shoulder.”

Lucien hummed in what Castiel thought was supposed to be sympathy. “UPS,” he said regretfully. “It is so hard to find good help these days. I highly recommend that complaint letter.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and snorted. “Some of the bruises were in the shape of _fingerprints_.”

“Well, what did you expect?” Lucien sounded mildly exasperated. “The omegas in the directory are used for _breeding_.”

“One would think that breeding omegas would at least be kept at a healthy weight! This one looks like it just escaped from a concentration camp, whip scars and all.”

“Whip scars?” From Lucien’s tone, Castiel could tell he was probably wrinkling his nose in distaste. “You picked a disobedient one, then.”

Castiel would hardly call the omega in question _disobedient_. Quite the opposite actually. Before he could say so, Lucien went on.

“Disobedient and _old_. I just knew something like this was going to happen. We let the ones slated for euthanasia loose some weight if there’s time; lowers drug costs. I really should have gone with you but I told myself, I said, Luc, you handsome devil, Cassy is a full grown alpha. He can make a big boy decision and choose an omega. But no! You went and picked a half dead breeder from the directory.” Lucien was back to sounding exasperated.

“How was I supposed to know? I was told the photos I saw were a good representation of the omega’s current state,” Castiel said in a growl. “Why was this one going to be put down anyway? Aside from being underweight and a little banged up, there doesn’t seem to be anything else wrong with it.” 

As he said it, Castiel realized…it was _true_. The omega certainly wasn’t in anything like mint condition but Castiel had to admit that he’d had no trouble reacting to its scent. Given a few weeks on a good diet, the omega would heal up and put on weight. The logic of that train of thought began to cool some of Castiel’s anger.

“After the initial heat, an omega’s best breeding years are the first ten, give or take. Depending on the demand, older omegas are sold to a third party who turns a small profit selling them for labour or domestic use. If demand is low, they’re euthanized instead. Humanely!” Lucien added, as if that made killing off perfectly healthy animals okay. Castiel knew the dairy industry had similar practices.

“Uh huh,” he said, knowing he sounded disapproving.

“Oh, save it! I get enough of that from those bleeding-heart omega rights activists.” His tone was grumpy.

Castiel rolled his eyes.

“Alright, little brother, I’ve decided to once again extend my generosity. I promised you a Novak quality omega and a Novak quality omega you will get. Just drop your ugly little bitch off at a vet’s office—though you are going to have to cover the cost of that mistake—and I will personally swing by whenever you’re free and help you pick out a proper omega. How about it, hmm?”

“I can pick out an omega on my own.”

“The evidence says otherwise,” Lucien said in a mocking tone.

Castiel considered it. “I’ll call you.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Castiel hung up, too irritated by his brother’s effusive behaviour to bother with goodbyes, and left the closet. It was a big closet but it somehow still felt like he’d been hiding in there.

The omega appeared to be sleeping rather than unconscious now. He had turned over and curled into a ball under the duvet, a tuft of brown hair the only part of him that could be seen.

Castiel peeled back the duvet. One slit green eye peered blearily at him. Castiel found the towel wrapped ice pack where it’d ended up on the mattress and then let the cover fall back down. He brought it with him to the kitchen and tossed it back in the freezer, making a mental note to ice the omega’s shoulder again later if needed.

Mood contemplative, he cooked dinner. Without thinking much about it, he chopped half a chicken breast into bite size pieces and fried them in olive oil without any of the spices he’d baked his own with. While that was going, he arranged slices of avocado on two plates. Raw and cooked carrots were added respectively to each. He served up the chicken and placed both plates at the dining table. 

Only then did Castiel remember the bowl in the corner of the dining room. He’d placed it there yesterday. He considered scraping the food he’d just made into the bowl and then rejected the idea as a silly way to make more dishes. 

He looked back at the table and picked up the omega’s plate. Well behaved omegas conventionally ate on the floor, Castiel knew this. It helped reinforce their training not to beg for human food. But omegas also normally ate omega feed. He had a bag of it in the kitchen.

_Omega feed is for owners who don’t know that feeding an omega too much wheat and sugar can cause severe bloating, cramps and ulcers_ , Castiel thought. He was a medical doctor. He knew what not to give an omega. 

He looked from the plate to the floor, frowned, and put it back on the table.

Rolling his eyes at himself, Castiel brought utensils, a glass of water for himself and, remembering he’d left the broth in the bathroom, an empty cup. All that was missing now was his dinner companion.

***

Between one breath and the next, Dean was awake. He moved not an inch as he took in what he could. His breathing sped up in confused alarm as he realized he was lying on a massive bed, cocooned in a fluffy, dark blue blanket. 

His shoulder throbbed. He remembered how, when the truck had finally stopped, the entire world had gone sideways as his crate roughly crashed to the ground, presumably dropped. His shoulder had taken the impact once again and he’d felt, amidst blinding agony, something pop free. There had been some yelling and then the crate had been righted more gently. The motion had still caused a scream to get caught in Dean’s throat.

The faces of betas and few alphas had peered in at him as he was transported through a large warehouse. Some had speculated about getting him out “for some fun” but an alpha woman had barked about protocol and stayed nearby until his crate was slid into a large wooden box that smelled strongly of pine.

Dean wasn’t sure how long he’d been in the box. It was long enough that despite not having had much to drink during the last day he’d been in his cell, his bladder had filled to bursting. Hours dragged past. He tried to sleep without much success. He body was a mass of discomfort between his injured shoulder, need to pee, dry tongue and achingly empty stomach.

When he was finally relocated to what the rumble of a different engine told him was another tuck, Dean’s mind was hazy. He stared listlessly into the darkness, body swaying with every turn and bump, and wondered where he was being taken now. A part of him longed for the soothing nothingness he imagined death would bring. A more insistent part prattled on about being let out to pee. 

The truck’s engine went silent, rousing Dean from his waking doze. He kept his ears open and was ready when his crate was lifted onto a dolly, one outstretched hand keeping his body from slamming forward. The dolly went down a ramp and up what he supposed was a set of stairs. He heard a muffed _ding dong_ followed shortly by the sound of a door being opened.

“I have a shipment for a Mr. Castiel Novak.” 

A jolt of recognition went through Dean. Novak was the name of the breeding farm. What could someone with that name want with a failed, broken omega like him? Perhaps this Novak would put him down personally.

A woman with a thick accent he had no name for explained that Mr. Novak was at work. “What is in box?” she asked.

“I’m afraid I don’t know, ma’am. Would you sign for the package?”

“Yes, yes. Bring it in.”

To his disappointment, Dean was left in the crate for several hours more. He could hear the woman singing in another language as she moved about, the scent of lemon cleaner reaching his nose. Once, she came near and he heard her touch the wooden exterior above his head but she only paused for a moment before walking away. The outside door opened and closed, punctuating the new quiet.

Dean was alone. Suddenly and entirely without his permission, the muscles holding his badder released. Urine gushed hot over his leg. For a moment, relief melted his spine. Then he realized the crate now held a shallow puddle, he was covered in pee, and there was no way for him to clean the mess before someone came for him.

Dean had shaken in terror and shame. Eventually, his shaking had turned into shivers of cold as the puddle he sat in cooled and began to sap his heat.

Then the alpha had come. 

Now, lying so warm and comfortable in the big bed, the memory of the alpha made Dean’s eyes burn like he was going to cry. Instead of a beating, the alpha had given Dean a delicious drink that soothed his thirst and his hunger both. Then he had carried— _carried!_ —Dean instead of letting him crawl with his injured arm.

As far back as the Academy, Dean’s experience with bathing had always been of cold water and rarely of a hard bar of soap intended for use on his genitals. The unpleasantness was only outweighed by the discomfort of being dirty. Having experienced how alphas and betas bathed, Dean now understood how it was that everyday they smelled so clean and free of sweat. If he had the option of having deliciously hot water rain down on him whenever he wanted, soothing and relaxing stiff muscles, he would bathe daily too.

Dean didn’t recall much after he’d gotten out of the bath. Standing had sent his head swimming dizzily and then the alpha had started to move his injured arm. There had been a burst of pain and then—nothing.

Dean carefully probed at the shoulder, shifting experimentally. To his awe, the joint was, while still sore, no longer popped out of place. _The alpha must be some sort of doctor_ , Dean thought. It made him think of the beta man who would perform physical exams and patch the omegas up if they were too badly injured to heal on their own. He used to make Dean sit, impaled on his cock, as he cleaned and bandaged Dean’s wounds.

Pushing the memory away, Dean sat up. The room was empty and he suddenly felt very out of place atop the huge bed. Unless he was being fucked, an omega belonged on the floor. With this in mind, he left the warm blanket cocoon and slid feet first off the side. When he found the floor, he immediately crouched. 

Shivering in the cool air, he considered what he should do. Before he could make a decision, he heard approaching footsteps. The alpha! The alpha was coming! Dean’s mind scrambled, trying to remember far distant lessons on proper positioning and behaviour. Should he present or was that something he should only do on command? Damn, he couldn’t remember!

Deciding something was better than nothing, Dean knelt with his thighs spread wide, the tops of his feet pressed into the floor and his hands open and crossed at his lower back. He straightened his shoulders and bowed his head, waiting.

The alpha entered the room and then stopped, his socked feet hesitating. Dean’s heart was rabbiting in his chest. After a moment, the alpha came closer. Dean could see as high up as his denim clad thighs. Then he gripped Dean under the chin and tilted his face up.

For a moment, Dean was staring directly into eyes the colour of a clear blue sky. It had been so long since he’d seen the real thing that his chest ached. He dropped his gaze and found he was level with the alpha’s zippered fly. That was a much more familiar sight. He knew exactly what to do when faced with a man’s crotch. 

He lifted cautious hands and gently tugged at the button. The alpha froze. Dean could tell by the way the muscles in his legs tensed. Dean held his breath, anticipating a cuff to the side of the head. He silently began to berate himself. _So stupid, should have waited for verbal permission!_

Then the alpha relaxed. He shifted, pressing silently closer to Dean’s unmoving hand. Exhaling shakily, Dean continued, pulling the zipper down over the growing bulge. Then he reached under the waistband of the alpha’s underwear and wrapped his fingers around hot flesh. It gave a little jerk in his hand as he pulled the alpha’s cock free. 

Dean immediately stretched forward and wrapped his lips around the head, letting his hands drop to his sides. The alpha groaned. Consciously relaxing his throat, Dean buried his nose in the alpha’s close copped pubic hair, blocking his own airway as he undulated his tongue. This earned him a gasp and he felt the alpha swell to rock hard fullness. Applying light suction, he dragged his lips back up to the head.

Hands twined into Dean’s hair when he paused for breath. A jolt of adrenaline went through him. He instantly dropped his jaw open wide, inhaling fast and deep in anticipation. But instead of a hard face fucking, the hands abruptly loosened their hold. The alpha scratched lightly at his scalp and gave the slightest push with his fingertips.

Hesitantly, Dean tightened his lips once again and gave an experimental suck. The alpha panted a little but let him do as he would. In response, Dean began a steady slide from tip to base, using his tongue to flick at the underside of the head on the upstroke. The alpha’s hands stayed in his hair without applying pressure and Dean was grateful. 

It was suddenly important to Dean that he do a good job. This alpha was uncommonly generous and maybe, just maybe, if he liked Dean well enough… 

Dean bobbed his head faster. He reached up and pulled the alpha’s waistband down lower, letting his balls escape. He massaged them as he sucked, eliciting a gasp from above.

He tasted precum and kept his pace steady, breathing through his nose when he could. At the base of the alpha’s cock, his knot began to swell. Dean stretched his mouth wide around it and, keeping his gag reflex firmly in check, _swallowed_. 

The alpha’s hands tightened and he groaned, low and satisfied. His hips gave minuscule jerks as he came directly down Dean’s throat. 

When he was finished, Dean pulled up and off, careful not to scrape his teeth on the still swollen knot. He tucked the alpha’s cock back into his underwear and did up his pants. Then Dean put his hands back behind himself and bowed his head.

The alpha chuckled but not like he was laughing at Dean’s performance. He stroked his fingers through Dean’s hair, sending not unpleasant shivery sensations down Dean’s neck. “You’re good at that,” he said, and there was faint humour in his voice.

A spark ignited in Dean’s chest. The comment wasn’t that different from all the variants of “what a good bitch” he’d heard before, but the way the alpha said it made Dean feel like, even if he didn’t understand, he was somehow in on the joke. 

The alpha took a step back. Dean’s heart leapt, although he wasn’t sure if it was out of fear of what might come next or due to something else. The alpha vanished into the bathroom and returned with a familiar lidded cup in hand.

“Come with me,” he said. “I made dinner.”

Dean immediately started to crawl forward but the alpha stopped him.

“I want you to stand up and walk.”

Dean, forgetting himself, blinked up at the alpha. Was it a trick? That had happened to him before. Some alphas liked to command him to do things Dean knew omegas shouldn’t, and then punish him for it. But if he didn’t do what they said, he was punished for disobedience. Did this alpha like to play those games?

Dean’s confusion was met with a steady look. Hastily dropping his gaze, Dean rose gracelessly to his feet. He staggered a little with lightheadedness.

The alpha wrapped an arm around Dean’s waist, supporting him before Dean knew what was happening.

“My house is big with a lot of hard floors. It would take you forever to get from one end to the other if you crawled and you’d ruin your knees. That would be a waste,” the alpha said, towing an unresisting Dean along.

Dean didn’t know why the alpha bothered to explain this to him. Still, it helped reassure him that he wouldn’t be punished. Unfortunately, his legs felt like they were filled with water and it might have actually been easier to crawl. 

He leaned more of his weight than he thought he should against the alpha as they moved. He had never been so weak before; omegas didn’t have the strength of an alpha but they were hardy and fast healing. Dean decided it was the lack of food. He hoped the alpha knew that and didn’t think Dean was physically flawed in some way that made him unable to walk unaided.

Still, despite supporting nearly all Dean’s weight, the alpha didn’t show any sign that he thought Dean was heavy. In fact, their slow pace could be blamed entirely on Dean clumsy, flatfooted steps. It probably would have been easier for the alpha to pick him up like he had before and carry him properly. The alpha didn’t though and he didn’t smell angry at their slow pace. 

Dean couldn’t help but breath in the alpha’s scent with every step, breaking it apart into its components as they moved. The faint musk of an alpha was the base note. Every alpha had that distinctive smell and it made them easy to distinguish at a sniff from betas. When they were aroused, the smell became richer and emphasized the subtle differences between one alpha and another. 

Then there were the top notes, the smells picked up from the products the alpha used, the places he went and ever so faintly, the people he touched recently or often. 

People tended to use the same products all the time—the same soaps, the same antiperspirants, the same perfumes—so those were good markers of identity. The alpha smelled most of a lemony laundry detergent and very faintly of the soap he had allowed Dean to clean himself with. The soap didn’t have much of smell though which Dean actually found quite pleasant.

There was an antiseptic smell clinging to the alpha that Dean associated with medical procedures. It made him more sure that the alpha was a doctor of some kind.

There was no strong smell of any single person aside from Dean himself which told Dean the alpha had no mate or children. He found that a little strange. If he lived alone, why was his house so big?

The hallway they passed down was wide enough that three large men could have walked abreast. At irregular intervals, they passed extremely tall doors. The first door was closed. A set of double doors farther down were open and afforded Dean a glimpse of a room filled entirely with books. The final door on the left before the hall opened into the foyer was closed but for a crack and Dean caught a fleeting glimpse of hulking black machines and contraptions. He hastily looked away, a shiver of fear darting up his spine.

Dean inhaled—and a whiff of something that smelled absolutely wonderful caught his attention. His stomach let out an impressive yowl of pure want. He cringed at the loud sound, knowing what he smelled couldn’t possibly be for him. It was people food and omegas were not permitted to eat it. Nor, he knew from vivid experience, would it be good for him anyway.

At the academy, Dean and the other omegas were taught to cook. They learned to prepare a limited range of dishes by memory and to properly follow simple recipes. 

At the end of those particular lessons, they had been presented with a large table covered in people food. Fresh baked breads, icing bedecked cakes, meats glazed with sweet sauces and an entire bowl of candy was laid before them. They were told that _just this once_ they would be allowed to eat all the people food they wanted—but after they did, not a single one would want to eat it ever again.

With little prompting, Dean had eaten like he had never eaten before or since. He remembered thinking he had never felt so much pleasure, though sadly he now realized that he could not quite recall the exact flavours that had so delighted him. The trainers had smiled small, mean smiles at them but Dean hadn’t paid attention as he should have. He had gone to bed happily content with a bulging stomach—and woken several hours later to stabbing pain. He and the other omegas had been violently sick and plagued with the runs for a whole day afterwards. The lesson couldn’t have been clearer; not only was it forbidden, omegas _could_ not eat people food.

Therefore Dean was understandably confused when the alpha perfunctorily dropped him into a padded chair— _a chair!_ —at a table set for two. Dean froze.

He should get down on the floor. But no. The alpha had placed him in the chair. Leaving it would be equivalent to disobedience. But he should really get off the chair. 

As his thoughts continued in an endless circle of panic, he missed the alpha sitting down as well. 

“That’s for you. Go ahead and eat.”

Dean’s thoughts scattered like a frightened herd and then coalesced into fresh panic when he looked down at the plate in front of him. It held cooked lumps of golden meat—chicken, his foggy memory supplied—small round pucks of some orange vegetable, and curved slices of some light green, soft looking item that was probably also a vegetable. 

Eat? Dean sucked in air and held it, turning rounded eyes on the alpha. He thought about what a day of sickness and diarrhea would do to his already weakened body. Dean figured he would probably die. 

The alpha wasn’t paying him any mind. He was unscrewing the cap on the bottle. Then he stretched forward and dumped the contents in the empty glass next to the plate of deadly food. It was golden brown with little bits floating in it. Dean belatedly realized he had no idea what he’d been drinking or what it would do to him later.

“Drink the rest of that too. You need fluids and nutrients.”

Dean dropped his head. Was the alpha trying to hurt him or was he simply ignorant? After a moment of thought, Dean realized it didn’t matter. He had been ordered to eat and it was not his place to gainsay an alpha.

He started to reach for the food and then hesitated, spotting the utensils laid by the plate. From under his lashes, he watched the alpha saw into a large piece of chicken on his own plate and lift it, speared on the tines of his fork, to his mouth.

Dean picked up the fork, seeing that nothing on his own plate required cutting. He was slightly reassured by this fact. Clearly, he and the alpha were eating slightly different meals. That was a small pocket of correctness in the sea of incorrect behaviour Dean was wallowing in. 

Dean stabbed a piece of chicken. _Sitting at the table is wrong_. He brought it awkwardly to his lips. _Eating people food is wrong_. He put the chicken in his mouth and chewed. _Using a fork is—_

Dean’s brain whited out as his mouth flooded with taste. It was good, it was _so_ good! Involuntarily, he moaned, head dropping forward as his entire universe was consumed by the sensation. When he finally swallowed, he instantly found another piece of chicken and shoved it in his mouth. Dean’s eyes burned. _Chicken is worth drying for_ , he thought and ate another.

After a depressingly short timespan, all the meat was gone from his plate. For a moment, Dean mourned its absence even as he savoured having gotten to eat it at all. Then he remembered that he was not alone.

Dean’s head snapped up so fast he nearly got a crick in his neck. The alpha was sipping a glass of water and watching him with a faintly amused expression. Dean wondered if the alpha found his enthusiasm for food that would later hurt him funny. 

“Eat your vegetables,” the alpha said and there was faint humour in his voice too.

Dean did as he was told. The vegetables were delicious—though not as delicious as the chicken—but he was already feeling overly full. He forced himself to eat them all and then finished by swallowing every last drop of the brown drink which, he realized belatedly, tasted an awful lot like the chicken. Liquid chicken? He wondered how it was made.

Despite having woken not too long ago, Dean felt exhaustion settle heavily on his shoulders. He thought it would be very nice to curl up in a corner somewhere and sleep.

“What’s your name?” the alpha asked.

Dean was dozy and unprepared for the question. In a rusty voice he hadn’t used for speech in more years than he cared to count, he said, “Dean.”

At the rough croak, Dean’s sleepiness fled. _My name!_ he mentally cried. They didn’t know his name. After the academy, he hadn’t told them. He hadn’t wanted to. He didn’t want to hear them say it. He felt the sudden loss of his identity poignantly. Now that he’d given it up, his name would never be returned in the same state. They would hurt him and call him _Dean_ and his name would forever ring with those memories.

“Dean,” the alpha said, like he was rolling it over in his mouth. “That’s a good name.”

The compliment was meaningless to Dean. It was his name and he’d given it up. _So stupid!_

***

Dean didn’t speak again after that. Not that he was asked any more questions. The alpha just picked up the dishes and vanished. Left alone, Dean gave into the urge to slide to the floor. He huddled in on himself and shook with inexplicable exhaustion.

After an indeterminate while where time seemed to stretch like taffy, the alpha came back. It took Dean a moment to notice his presence and he thought maybe he had dozed off with his eyes open. When he finally registered the alpha’s legs once again in his line of sight, Dean jolted and nearly toppled over.

The alpha snorted but when he reached down, it wasn’t to strike him. The alpha’s arms slipped around his lower back and under his knees and Dean once again had the terrifying and bewildering experience of being carried. Unconsciously, he clenched a hand into the alpha’s shirt.

They returned to the alpha’s bedroom. Dean was at once reassured and alarmed. This was at least semi-familiar territory but what would the alpha want from him now? 

Before his thoughts could run away, the alpha plopped him down on a firm, padded surface. Dean recognized the rectangular mat as an omega bed and blinked. He hadn’t slept on one since the academy and it had been so old that all the padding had been flattened until it didn’t have much more give than the ground. This bed was four or five inches thick and covered in plush cream fabric. It looked new, he noticed in disbelief.

“There,” the alpha said and pointed. “That’s where you’re going to sleep.”

Dean blinked again, dazedly. When it seemed the alpha was waiting for him to do something, Dean scooted to the middle of the mat and laid down, curling up for warmth. 

Something landed on top of him and Dean jolted fully awake, not having realized he’d lost consciousness for a moment. Before he could do more than utter a tiny yip of surprise, he saw it was a heavy knit blanket, blue-grey in colour. It covered his entire body and, it seemed, the alpha had given it to him. 

“Goodnight, Dean,” the alpha said. Then Dean watched his socked feet walk away, leaving him in comfort and solitude. Sleep quickly dragged him under.


	6. Chapter 6

In the morning after his alarm had gone off, Castiel sat on the edge of his bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Once he’d stood and stretched, he realized the omega was awake as well. 

It was sitting on the omega bed Castiel had dragged over from the library. He’d originally thought he’d make the omega sleep in there but had decided last minute that he’d rather have it close to keep an eye on. 

It had the blue throw blanket pulled up around its head like a shawl and obscuring the rest of its body. The green eyes set in the pale face watched him in the illumination provided by Castiel’s bedside lamp. It might have been Castiel’s imagination, but he thought the eyes looked clearer and sharper then they had the day before.

Deciding that was progress, Castiel beckoned the omega to follow him into the bathroom. With the time to better sort his own emotions, Castiel had realized a few things. His new omega clearly would not act without permission—not even to do basic tasks. That meant Castiel needed to establish clear rules. Otherwise, he would probably find himself with more messes to clean up when the omega pissed itself again waiting to be told to use a toilet.

As expected, the omega began to crawl toward him. 

“No,” Castiel said and the omega froze in place. “Unless you are told otherwise, you will walk from now on.”

The omega took a moment to process this order. Then it stood up and resumed moving forward, eyes downcast. Castiel watched critically. A single meal and a full night’s sleep hadn’t done much for the spindly limbs and prominent ribs but at least it didn’t seem like the omega’s legs would collapse at any second.

Reassured, Castiel proceeded to show the omega where the toilet was and how to use it. “Relieve yourself whenever you feel the need. If we are engaged in an activity or outside the house, inform me first. Do you understand?”

The omega, staring determinedly at the floor, nodded. That wouldn’t do, Castiel thought.

“When I ask you a question, I want you to respond verbally.”

After a pause, a scratchy and surprisingly deep voice said, “Yes, alpha.”

Castiel thought that maybe, in the future, he’d have the omega call him by name but ‘alpha' would work for now.

Castiel watched the omega swallow. Then hesitantly, it said, “A-alpha? I need to…relieve myself.”

Wordlessly, Castiel stepped out of the way, gesturing for the omega to enter the small toilet room. 

Ten minutes later, Castiel, now in a pair of workout pants, was striding toward his home gym with the omega trotting at his heels. He tried not to let any uncertainty show as he pushed open the door and flicked on the light.

A gasp sounded behind him. Castiel turned to look at the omega and found its eyes darting fearfully. Its shoulders were curled in a protective hunch as it practically cowered in the doorway.

Castiel tried to see the gym from the perspective of a largely ignorant and sheltered omega. To one side was a line of cardio machines including a treadmill, elliptical and spin bike. On the opposite, mirrored wall was a rack of free weights. A modest variety of resistance machines and benches filled the space between. He supposed that to someone without a frame of reference, the large, black and silver hulks of gears, pistons, weights and padded protrusions might look like torture devices of some sort. Or weird sex-related furniture.

“Nothing in here will be used to hurt you,” Castiel said. He tried to be reassuring and patient but thought he sounded more exasperated than anything. “These objects are used for exercising.”

The omega looked at him blankly.

“I use them to keep my body strong and healthy.”

The omega stopped shaking and a spark of interest seemed to flash in its eyes. “Yes, alpha,” it said in a whisper.

That gave Castiel an idea. “Come with me,” he said and walked over to the cardio machines. The omega obediently trailed him. “This is called a treadmill.” He coaxed the omega up into position and turned it on. When the belt started to move, the omega flailed and nearly toppled off. It managed to save itself by grabbing the handles. After a moment of stumbling, it quickly got the hang of it.

Castiel set the speed to an easy brisk walk and the workout to only five minutes. “When it stops moving, get off and wait for me to finish.”

While he normally turned on music while he worked out, Castiel wanted to be able to hear immediately if the omega started to struggle. Sure enough, after only two minutes, it started to pant heavily. 

When the omega started to stagger, Castiel strode over and slapped the red stop button. The belt ground to a halt and the omega’s legs threatened to buckle. It wobbled off the machine and sat down hard on the floor between it and the elliptical. 

Castiel glanced at the paused timer; there was still half a minute left. Unsurprised, he left the omega to recover and returned to his own workout. It was a quick one, lasting only thirty minutes. He felt the omega’s eyes on him the entire time but didn’t acknowledge the stare.

After getting himself and the omega some water, Castiel took a shower. Clean and dressed, he exited his closet to find the omega crouched on the carpet, waiting where it had been left. He considered it. It was naked. Rather, he was naked. The omega’s name was Dean, Castiel reminded himself. It was hard to remember that when the omega seemed to have less personality than a dog.

Castiel wondered what to do with the omega while he was at work. He doubted Dean would get into any trouble if he was left alone. In reality, Castiel doubted Dean would even dare to move without someone telling him to. Castiel contained his sigh. He would have to bring Dean to work with him for the day at least.

But he couldn’t bring a nude omega to his clinic, not with children around. He rummaged through his closet and found a pair of athletic pants that cinched at the waist and a t-shirt. He thought the omega’s feet were actually larger than his so he didn’t bother with socks; flip-flops would have to do.

The omega looked at the clothing Castiel passed him with an increasingly familiar expression of blank incomprehension. Already a little behind, Castiel took the clothes back and quickly pulled the shirt over the omega’s head of scraggly hair. That seemed to be enough of a clue that Dean began to inexpertly dress himself.

He and Castiel were nearly of a height so the length was adequate but the clothes hung off Dean’s frame. He looked like a homeless teenager. Omega clothing was something Castiel would have to eventually invest in.

For breakfast, Castiel made a pot of oatmeal because he was running short on time. His own bowl got brown sugar and sliced banana added to it. Dean’s got a little cinnamon. He sat them side by side at the island counter because it was just easier. This time, Dean didn’t look at his food like he thought it was laced with poison. He just seemed a little confused and ate when Castiel told him to. 

Under the omega’s never ending regard, the dishes were rinsed and placed in the dishwasher. 

For the first time, Castiel got out the collar and leash he’d bought. He’d seen omegas in all sorts of collars: everything from cheap nylon to heavy leather to frilly bows and lace. He’d decided to go with something more subtle. The collar was a glossy rose gold with flat, half-inch high links. He’d been assured the links would lie flat without pinching. 

When he turned with it in hand, the omega stared at the collar with a clear expression of genuine astonishment. Castiel held it up and Dean scrambled to kneel with what seemed like actual eagerness. He bowed his head.

Blinking, Castiel looped the collar around his neck and did up the clasp. A shiver seemed to travel down Dean’s spine. When he looked up it was with wonder on his face.

Castiel found he liked that expression more than the usual looks of fear and confusion. He tugged Dean to his feet and spontaneously leaned forward to capture his mouth in a kiss.

Dean stood unmoving and allowed Castiel to lick into his half-open mouth. Castiel pulled away after just a taste, not wanting to get carried away. Dean lowered his head and didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands.

Castiel observed the reaction with interest. Dean seemed confused. He supposed a breeding farm wasn’t a place kisses were usually exchanged. Dean would need to get used to being in a more domestic setting. With this in mind, Castiel clipped on the delicate chain leash and led Dean out into the early morning dawn. 

Dean stared. He looked like someone stepping foot on an alien planet. A car started up and pulled out of a driveway across the street. Dean’s wide eyes tracked the vehicle until it vanished around a corner.

He inexpertly navigated the steps down from the porch at Castiel’s prompting. A gust of warm wind buffeted them and Dean inhaled, his nostrils fluttering. He looked down at the grass at the edge of the driveway and his fingers twitched like he wanted to touch it.

“Go ahead,” Castiel said impulsively. 

Dean blinked owlishly at him.

“Touch the grass.”

Dean looked back down at the ground. He crouched on the balls of his feet and gently ran one hand over the tops of the grass, the way one might stroke a potentially unfriendly cat. When the action proved to be harmless, he petted the grass several more times. Then Dean turned his hand over and looked at his palm. It was damp with dew. He brought it to his face and licked the water droplets off his skin.

The entire tableau reminded Castiel of a very young child encountering something new, experiencing the world with all the senses. It was why babies stuck everything in their mouths. In most things, it seemed Dean was like a child. He was omega and he had been sequestered most of his life. It predisposed him to childish ignorance.

Castiel could choose to be frustrated with that ignorance. Or he could choose to be patient through Dean’s period of learning and correct him when needed. 

The current school of thought said omegas responded best to physical discipline. Castiel imagined striking Dean for licking the dew; it was probably full of pollutants so he shouldn’t keep ingesting it. But such a reaction seemed so overblown and…cruel. 

What would he have done had Dean had been a human child rather than an omega?

“Dean, don’t lick the dew please. It’s dirty and we have to leave.”

Dean immediately stopped licking his hand. He stood up and moved so he was standing closer to Castiel. “Yes, alpha,” he said softly.

Castiel didn’t know why the easy compliance startled him. Dean had been nothing but obedient up til now. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that he would continue that pattern.

Castiel directed Dean to sit in the passenger seat of his car and piled the leash in his lap. Castiel slid in on the other side and showed Dean how to buckle his seat belt. With minor fumbling, Dean was secured and they set off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little short but it was hard to find a good point to break the story up in the following scenes.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean knew what a car was. Of course he did. He had simply never seen or ridden in one before.

The alpha drove his car with ease. He navigated through busy streets almost absently, knowing when to stop, when to go, and seemingly what all the other cars were going to do before they did it. Dean found himself relaxing back into the comfortable leather seat. With the alpha’s attention on the road, Dean didn’t need to worry. He could enjoy the ride.

All too soon, they reached their destination. The alpha stopped the car and turned the engine off. Dean came instantly to attention. He didn’t move but every muscle coiled tight. His awareness, which had momentarily drifted, snapped back to the alpha. 

He glanced at Dean, sighed, and slid out of the car. 

Dean’s heart beat fast inside his chest. Where were they? What were they doing here? What would Dean be expected to do? How should he act? All these questions raced through his mind in the time it took the alpha to walk around the car and open the passenger side door.

“C’mon, get out,” the alpha said.

Dean fumbled with shaky hands at the clasp holding the belt over his chest. It released and Dean unfolded from the car. The alpha grabbed the handle of the leash where it dangled to Dean’s hips and gave a soft tug. Dean moved out of the way and the alpha closed the car door.

“When we arrive somewhere by car, you are to get out when I do unless I tell you otherwise. Close the door and come stand near me so I can grab your leash.”

“Yes, alpha.” Dean said, committing the instructions to memory. He exhaled some of his anxiety along with the words. The alpha would tell him what to do. It also seemed he wouldn’t get upset when Dean didn’t know what the right thing to do was. So far anyway. Still, it gave Dean a modicum of comfort.

The alpha led Dean away from the car and onto a raised walkway shaded by an overhanging roof. A building stretched the length of the walkway. It had many doors, mostly glass, with colourful signs over them. The signs were incomprehensible to Dean.

They entered through one of the doors. The alpha used a key to get in and relocked the door behind them. They passed through a second door, also glass, and into an open area. Directly ahead was a large desk with a computer, a phone and a leafy green plant. To the left was a big area lined with padded chairs. A small corner was sectioned off and filled with colourful books and plastic things.

Dean sniffed. The smell of antiseptic cleaner filled his nose and he sneezed before he could help it.

The alpha glanced at him. “You get used to it after a while,” he said. Dean cautiously uncurled from his instinctive cringe.

Behind the desk was a door. A woman walked through it wearing grey scrubs. She looked at them and her dark eyes blinked. “Dr. Novak, you’re early.” Her gaze shifted to Dean. He looked at the ground. “Who’s…this?”

“Good morning, Rachel. This is Dean.”

“Oh, wow, I didn’t know you had an omega. Give me a second, I’m going to come around.”

Dean peered up through his lashes and saw the woman turn and go back through the door. She emerged from the hallway next to the desk a moment later. She moved confidently and Dean wondered if she was an alpha. He dropped his gaze again to be safe.

“How long have you had him?” she asked, coming to a stop in front of them. Dean watched her clean white shoes. “He looks…on the thin side.” There was a note of disapproval in her tone. Dean hunched his shoulders in shame.

The alpha sighed. “Don’t give me that look, Rachel. I got him yesterday.”

“Oh.” Her tone was considerably lighter. “May I?”

The alpha must have granted approval because Rachel reached out and cupped Dean’s chin, lifting his face. He inhaled the scent from her skin and relaxed by several degrees; this woman was a beta. She also smelled strongly of another male so she likely had a mate.

“Pretty green eyes,” she said. 

Dean held very still as she inspected his features. With his face held up, the lowest he could cast his gaze was her chin. He noted her cocoa-dark complexion and the long, shiny black braids pulled over one shoulder. There were beads at the ends of the braids that clicked softly together when she tilted her head.

Eventually, the woman let go. Dean wanted to sink to the floor and prostrate himself at the sudden release of tension. He settled for dropping his eyes to stare fixedly at her shoes.

“Given a few weeks of TLC and a haircut, he’ll be decent looking. Is he a reclamation project or…” She trailed off uncertainly.

“Reclamation?” the alpha repeated in surprise. 

There was a beat of silence and Dean peeked upwards. The woman’s eyebrows were raised. But then her eyes went all…soft, and Dean lost his nerve, dropping his gaze.

“Ooh!” She said. “That is so— Yeah, adopt, don’t shop, right?”

“…right.”

The mild annoyance in that one word had Dean swallowing convulsively. Still, it didn’t keep his mind from whirling at the implications. Did the alpha really mean to _keep_ Dean as his own personal omega? Keep _him_? 

Despite the gentle weight of the collar at his throat, he thought he must have misunderstood. Why would the alpha want Dean? He was old and scarred and broken. There were so many better omegas out there. 

He was so consumed with these thoughts that he barely noticed the alpha leading him to a small room with a desk. He blinked back into focus when he realized the alpha had unclipped the leash and was telling him about a bathroom.

“…free to use it when you need but you’ll stay here for most of the day.”

Dean glanced around, noting the padded desk chair, computer monitor and little else. 

“Do you understand?” 

It took Dean a moment to find his voice. “Yes, alpha.”

The alpha looked around then, seeming to take in the room the same way Dean had. He frowned as he set the leash in a shining coil on the desk. 

“You can sit in the chair,” he added slowly.

Dean felt guilty relief at this; the floor was plain tile and would have been miserable to sit on all day without a blanket.

The alpha looked like he was about to leave. Then his brow scrunched. He moved to rummage in the top drawer of the desk, producing a piece of paper and a pencil. One side of the paper had writing on it but he placed it blank side up.

“Draw if you get bored.” Nodding to himself, the alpha left, the door clicking shut behind him.

Bored? Dean barely knew what the word meant in even an abstract way. 

“I’m _bored_ with this one.” 

It was something he’d heard an alpha say not too long ago. At one point, that particular alpha had come to Dean’s stall often, sometimes multiple times a week. Then one day he had come, glanced in at Dean, and made the comment to the man with him. 

At the time, Dean had already started to suspect his own failings as an omega. The alpha’s words had served to double his certainty. 

Dean was boring. Alphas were losing interest in breeding him. The end was not far away.

A familiar pall of despair and shame fell over Dean. He held very still as the cloud of dark emotion threatened to choke him. It seemed to last a very long time. In the interim, Dean felt himself blind and helpless. 

When it finally lifted, Dean was crumpled on the floor. His muscles ached like he’d been down there for a while. His eyes burned but when he touched his face, his cheeks were dry.

Rising jerkily, he limp-stumbled into the office chair and folded into its padded embrace. He had to remind himself numerous times that he’d been given permission, replaying his memory of it over and over until his lizard brain believed it too. 

Finally able to turn his attention outward again, he looked at the paper and pencil.

 _Draw if bored_. Those were the instructions. Dean considered them carefully. The first part was “draw”. He had never drawn before. He didn’t think tracing wet squiggles on a freshly washed floor counted.

Would the alpha care what his drawing looked like? He hadn’t sounded like he cared but it was possible.

The second part was “if bored”. A qualifier. Dean hated qualifiers. They were often subjective. Dean had to decided whether or not he was feeling a thing and that was especially difficult in this instance because he was still unsure what the thing felt like. Perhaps he could pretend he had felt the thing. 

He tried to imagine it. 

The alpha would come back to the room and see Dean had made squiggles on the paper. He would say, “You were bored?”

Dean would say, “Yes, alpha.”

And then…

Dean had no idea what would happen next.

Maybe the alpha would say, “Omegas are not allowed to feel bored,” and then beat him.

Dean grimaced.

But this alpha didn’t seem to enjoy playing tricks. Dean had already noticed that.

He shook his head, trying to clear away the idea.

 _It’s not a trick_ , he told himself sternly, fingers finding the flat links around his neck. The pencil loomed large where it rested at a careless angle. He hesitated. Then, taking the most terrifying leap of faith he had ever taken in his life, he reached forward and picked it up.

His pulse ratcheted higher and his breathing picked up speed. Adrenaline set his entire body to tingling. 

No one burst into the room to punish him. Alarms didn’t go off. The pencil didn’t suddenly come to life and poke out his eyes.

Dean swallowed convulsively and shivered, curling his fingers carefully tighter. 

Glancing nervously side to side, he placed his feet squarely on the floor and scooted the chair closer to the desk until his thighs disappeared underneath it. The computer monitor was an intimidating black square but he decided to simultaneously ignore it and protect it from all possible damage with his very life.

The paper was clean and nearly perfect, just one corner crumpled ever so slightly. A shadow of the black print on the reverse side could just be seen. As Dean considered this empty canvas, he shifted the pencil until the pointed end was poking out of his fist. It didn’t quite look right and he stretched his memory trying to recall the correct configuration of fingers and instrument.

With some trial and error, he found a position that didn’t cramp his hand too badly yet still allowed him some control over the pencil’s movement; the shaft rested in the crook between thumb and forefinger and his fingertips pinched together near the black tip.

Dean, still convinced his technique was wrong in some way, experimentally wiggled the pencil in the air. 

He looked down at the paper, faced with a new dilemma. What should he draw? As he considered the question, a curious feeling filled him. Anticipation mixed with inquisitiveness mixed with…something he’d never felt before. Potentially, he could draw _anything_. Anything he wanted. Anything at all. Or not. He could choose not to draw.

Giddiness filled his belly and flooded the back of his throat, making Dean feel like he might burst out laughing. He swallowed it back and tried to think.

He would start small, he decided, and glanced around for inspiration. The black computer monitor again caught his attention. His eyes traced its simple straight lines. 

Breathing more quickly now, he pressed his pencil down with a slightly shaking hand. The tip scratched a small grey mark before he steadied. Biting his bottom lip, he tried to drag the pencil sideways but found he needed to use his other hand to keep the paper still.

A sloping, crooked line appeared. It was completely unlike what he’d intended and Dean’s brow furrowed. Drawing was going to be harder than he’d thought.

He made several more lines. Even with all his concentration brought to bear, the rectangle he created was very lopsided. Dean looked at the computer monitor’s perfect lines and pursed his lips.

He tried to fix it by going over the lines again to straighten them out. When that created more of a mess, he went over them a second time. This pattern repeated until he had a chunky box—in completely the wrong proportions.

Frustrated, Dean stared at his drawing. It only took up a small corner of the page so he decided to try again. Since straight lines were so difficult, he would draw something without them.

The room he was in lacked suitably curvy objects to act as his model. He racked his brain for an idea. Sucking his bottom lip, he set to work.

His first mark filled nearly half the page and he felt a thrill run up his spine at his daring. He shifted his eyes from side to side, confirming that he was alone. He made a matching, asymmetrical line curving in the opposite direction and tilted his head in thought. He could work with this.

A while later, Dean was so absorbed in his drawing that he didn’t consciously register the sound of the door opening.

“A tree?” 

Dean’s arm seized. A thick, dark line cut across his drawing before his fingers were able to release the pencil. His stomach dropped into his shoes and he flung himself out of the chair.

“Whoa!” the alpha said, his shoes moving back from Dean’s prostrate form. 

“It’s okay. I didn’t mean to startle you. Come on, stand up.”

Heart pounding, Dean picked himself up off the floor. 

The alpha scooped up his drawing. Dean watched as he inspected it, part of him hopeful the alpha might approve and part of him wishing desperately that he hadn’t dared set pencil to paper.

“This is decent. Do you like drawing?”

“Yes, alpha,” he said without thought, lightheaded from relief.

“I’ll get you some more paper then,” the alpha said, letting the page settle back on the work surface. 

Dean blinked. The idea that the alpha would give him something because _Dean_ liked it made his head ache. “Thank you, alpha,” he said after a beat, remembering his manners.

The alpha nodded. “It’s time for lunch.”


	8. Chapter 8

Castiel’s small clinic was successful. But it was not so successful that he could justify having two doctors on call every day. Most of the time, it was him and two nurses running the show and his nurses, while indispensable, could not diagnose and treat patients. 

When his practice had been new, Castiel had snuck into his back office every lunch to scarf down a protein bar or prepackaged salad in less than five minutes. After all, as the only doctor, he felt he had to get back to his waiting patients as quickly as possible.

After a year, Rachel had staged an intervention. She had been his third ever hire and the only one to have lasted. She’d intercepted his food scarfing one day and explained in no uncertain terms that she would personally ensure no one died while he took a thirty minute lunch break. Resistance had been futile. 

Not that he’d resisted for long. Doctors are humans too after all. He should have remembered that for himself long before Rachel felt the need to intervene. While he still felt a twinge of guilt, especially for the sick children who were waiting with worried, exhausted parents, he knew doctors in general performed better when rested and well-fed. Hell, that was true of anyone in any profession. 

Still, that didn’t mean he brazenly passed through the waiting room and out the front door. That was just asking for trouble. After collecting the omega from his office, he snuck them out the back.

It was a beautifully warm day. Castiel reached above his head and stretched, feeling several joints pop. Sensing eyes on him, he turned his head to catch the omega watching. The omega’s gaze immediately shot to the ground. 

Castiel considered his options. Not every establishment would be welcoming to an omega, sit down restaurants in particular. He led them around to the front parking lot and hustled the omega into the car, stomach growling.

While Castiel wasn’t normally a fan of fast food, he pulled into a drive-through. After assessing the menu, he ordered two grilled chicken sandwiches on whole wheat buns with extra tomato and romaine lettuce. Knowing the bread and seasoned meat would be already be pushing the omega’s delicate digestive system, he requested one sandwich be made without mayo. 

Food acquired, Castiel found an empty spot in the restaurant’s parking lot and shut off the car. As the silence settled, he found the omega studiously not looking at him or the food. The omega had also been silent the entire trip so far.

Castiel resisted the urge to sigh. He wished the omega would simply relax more but that was probably asking too much in less than twenty-four hours.

Returning his attention to the takeout bag, he passed over the omega’s sandwich and cracked open one of the water bottles, setting it in the cupholder closest to the passenger seat.

The omega inspected the packaged food in his lap without touching it.

“That’s for you to eat,” Castiel explained. “Take the wrapper off like this.”   
He demonstrated and then took a bite of his own sandwich. The lettuce made a satisfying crunch. 

The omega watched him, green eyes intent on his every move. Then he hesitantly began peeling off the wrapper like the sandwich was a bomb he had to diffuse. Once it was spread open on his lap, he picked it up two handed and sniffed. 

Castiel pretended not to watch this whole procedure but he could feel an amused quirk pulling at his lips. The omega took a slow bite and, chewing carefully, flicked his eyes sideways. He caught sight of the smirk and froze. 

Castiel really did roll his eyes this time. Dammit, but he couldn’t walk on eggshells forever. He consciously relaxed his posture, only realizing at that moment how stiffly he’d been sitting. The omega’s tension was making him tense.

He grabbed the second water bottle and took a swig before levelling the omega with his gaze. “Dean,” he said deliberately, “there is no reason for you to be so afraid of me. If I say you’re allowed to do something, you’re _allowed_ to do it and it doesn’t matter if you do it perfectly. If you unintentionally do something wrong, I’ll let you know what it was and won’t punish you for it in any way. So relax and eat your food.”

“Yes, alpha,” Dean said but the response was automatic rather than heartfelt. He didn’t relax at all but his eyebrows drew together.

“If you have a question, you can ask it. I won’t punish you for asking questions.”

Dean blinked rapidly. “Yes, alpha.” He swallowed convulsively. His mouth opened but nothing came out.

Castiel waited. He could be a patient hunter when he needed to be.

“Why…” Dean began, voice coming out in a croak. Then he seemed to struggle for a moment. Finally, he just lifted his sandwich in a silent end to his question.

“Why a sandwich rather than omega feed?” Castiel guessed. “Omega feed provides the bare minimum of nutrition. For a healthy omega, it’s the cheapest and safest option. You’re undernourished. Given enough time, omega feed would probably be sufficient to bring you up to a healthy weight,” Castiel added thoughtfully, “but a nutrient and calorie dense diet will work faster. Did that answer your question?” 

Dean looked back down at his sandwich, his brow scrunched. Castiel wondered if the omega had understood him. 

“Yes, alpha,” Dean said but that told Castiel exactly nothing.

Inexplicably and unfairly frustrated, Castiel turned away. He took an aggressively large bite of his sandwich, filled suddenly with the feeling that he’d made a big mistake. Choosing Dean had been a hasty, ill considered decision. Castiel had just seen a pair of pretty eyes and went for it. He hadn’t considered what buying a breeder might mean. It was like he’d adopted an abused dog without considering how much effort would be involved and how differently the dog would behave compared to one that was well treated.

Then Dean spoke.

“Alpha, why…me? I’m not…” Dean didn’t finish the sentence. He just looked down. 

Castiel breathed out, surprised doubly that first Dean had chosen to speak and second about what his question implied. Castiel wondered what he could say. That Castiel had though Dean’s photos were attractive but that he now regretted the impulse? _God, how cruel._

“I wanted an older omega,” Castiel said, deciding to be truthful but not _that_ truthful. “The younger ones look too much like children for me to find attractive.” He wondered what that might imply about the men and women his age who chose the young omegas. The thought made his stomach twist so he pushed it aside. 

That made Dean look at him. It was maybe the first time Dean had looked him full in the face without being forced. The omega’s large hands were still around his sandwich. His expression was openly astonished. “You find me…attractive, alpha?”

The question from anyone else would have made Castiel think they were fishing for compliments. Or that they were flirting. Dean sounded so shocked and disbelieving, his green eyes big and wounded.

Castiel realized that he did. Sure, Dean needed filling out and probably a haircut but with his gaze no longer so glazed and with his face in full view, he still had what Castiel had initially seen in him; he was a big omega with a ridiculously cute nose and intense eyes.

Castiel smiled. “Yes, Dean, I do find you attractive.”

Dean’s forehead scrunched and his breathing hitched. He looked away and swallowed convulsively.

Castiel waited for him to say more but Dean seemed to have sunk into his own thoughts. “Eat,” Castiel said. “You need to gain about forty pounds.”

“Yes, alpha,” Dean said.


	9. Chapter 9

The rest of the day seemed to pass in a blur for Dean. After he had eaten, though he was only able to stomach half of the sandwich the alpha had given him, they returned to “the clinic.”

In the office once again, it was barely minutes before Dean had to use the washroom. There was an insistent pressure in his gut that Dean had not been looking forward to. However, it took close to another hour before he was able to work up the courage to poke his head out in search of the facilities.

Spotting the correct door, he scuttled across the hall. Heart pounding, he closed the door behind him and leaned against it. Dean’s lower belly cramped and he got moving.

After he’d finished, Dean decided it hadn’t been as bad he’d feared. Sure, there’d been some blood but it had been bright red and fresh. There probably weren’t any deeper tears and the one he was sure about had been healing before the scab had come off. Dean used water and soap from the sink to make sure the area was as clean as he could make it.

Later, Dean was barely aware of the passing of time, far too consumed by his own thoughts. Absently, he used his toes to turn the office chair back and forth as he considered the alpha’s earlier words.

Dean was absolutely confused. First, he wasn’t ill. This was his second day eating people food and he was…fine. If fact, he would even go so far as to say he felt stronger. He wasn’t vomiting. His bowels seemed fine. Even the slight stomach ache he had could easily be blamed on his churning emotions.

Was the alpha right? Would this people food he was being given make him healthy faster? It was nearly inconceivable. He knew what he’d experienced at the academy; he’d been sick, just like every omega who’d eaten the people food had been. He hadn’t imagined it. Had he?

Dean bit his lip. No, he decided. He hadn’t imagined it. The memory of that night was all too clear.

Why then was he fine now? There were no answers to be had.

 _You could ask_ , a stray, dangerous thread of thought murmured. 

Dean had tried. The alpha had seemed to want Dean to ask a question but the right words had gotten stuck somewhere along the way. He’d gotten an answer anyway, not the one he’d been looking for but answer nonetheless.

It made no sense though. There were much better omegas out there. Why would the alpha waste his time and efforts trying to bring Dean up to a healthy weight?

 _He thinks you’re attractive_ , the little voice whispered. _He wants to keep you._

But _why_? Dean was nothing. _Nothing_. Not attractive, not worth keeping, not worth feeding. Nothing.

Dean’s thoughts continued in similar tracks all throughout the afternoon. Even the fresh piece of paper couldn’t draw his interest. All his attention was focused inward.

Exhaustion and a headache were plaguing him by the time the alpha returned. Dean slid to the floor and tried not to hope he would be taken back to the alpha’s house and the comfy omega bed that was waiting there.

Despite this, he still felt a dash of disappointment when the alpha chose to sit in the chair Dean had just vacated instead of ordering Dean to follow him. Crouched on the balls of his feet, Dean stared at the alpha’s leather shoes, determined to feel nothing but gratitude that he had a full stomach and wasn’t being beaten. Still, he felt his eyelids droop without his conscious permission.

“Tired?” the alpha said.

Dean’s eyes flew wide, adrenaline suddenly pumping through his veins. “No, alpha,” he said, breath speeding.

A hand cupped his chin and drew his face up. The alpha forced him to meet his eyes. They were blue and fathomless and made Dean’s heart gallop like mad. 

“Don’t lie to me, Dean,” the alpha said.

“Yes, alpha, sorry, alpha,” Dean said, voice squeezing down tight. He was afraid. He waited for the hand under his chin to tighten painfully or for the alpha’s other hand to come around and cuff him.

The hand holding him released but Dean’s every muscle was locked tight. He didn’t dare move. The alpha unexpectedly ran fingers through his hair. The ends were tangled but instead of ripping through, the alpha carefully worked his way free. Dean blinked rapidly under the touch and light tugs on his scalp.

“Are you tired, Dean?” The alpha asked again. The expression on his face didn’t change. 

Dean swallowed, finally unlocking his body enough to drop his gaze. “Yes, alpha.”

“I have some charting left to do but we’ll be heading home afterwards. You may nap before dinner.”

Unexpected tears stung Dean’s eyes. “Thank you, alpha,” he said, voice a little choked.

“Come here,” the alpha said, swivelling the chair and gesturing to the gap under the desk.

Dean scrambled forward on all fours and wedged himself into the space. The alpha put his legs on either side of his body and tapped one thigh. “Hands,” he said.

Dean placed both his hands on the alpha’s leg, feeling the hardness of muscle beneath the slacks. The alpha shifted slightly and then seemed to find a comfortable position. An electronic hum started up and Dean settled in to wait.

A short while later, just as Dean had grown used to the clacking of the keyboard and click of the mouse, he heard a buzz. The alpha paused and then shifted his hips up to slide a hand into his pocket, retrieving a cell phone. This put his groin very close to Dean’s face. The scent of male alpha was strong but not unpleasantly so. Dean’s mouth flooded with saliva which he thought was strange.

“Hello?” the alpha said. “Yes, I’m still at the clinic, why?” He paused. “I said I would call _you_.” He sighed. “Yes, alright, I’m coming.” He pushed away from the desk and Dean dropped his hands. 

“I’ll be right back,” the alpha muttered, rising and letting the office door swing shut behind him.

Dean blinked sleepily, wondering vaguely what was going on.

Several minutes later, the alpha returned to the office. The look on his face was annoyed. Behind him, another man entered. He was taller than the alpha with light, nearly blonde hair and a short beard. He wore a blue dress shirt tucked into charcoal grey pants.

The new man glanced around the room, quickly spotting where Dean huddled under the desk.

“Ah, there it is. Come on out here so I can take a look at what my little brother has gotten himself into, hm?”

Dean’s eyes flicked to the alpha as he crawled forward. The alpha nodded at him, still looking unhappy. Out in the open, Dean hesitated before rising to his feet. His first instinct was to to stay down on all fours but he clearly remembered the alpha’s instructions; walk unless told otherwise. So he stood, rounding his shoulders forward and ducking his head in an effort to seem as small and unobtrusive as possible.

The new man tsked. “Ah ah, you were not told to—”

The alpha slid quickly in front of Dean and there was a smack of flesh on flesh. Dean’s head snapped up. The alpha had his arm raised, gripping the new man’s wrist. From the angle, the new man had been intending to hit Dean.

He froze, startled and unsure. A fine tremble raced over his limbs.

“What are you doing?” the alpha asked, voice low and angry in a way Dean had never heard before. His knees felt like water and he had to force himself to stay standing. 

The new man blinked at him. “Just a little correction. Omegas need to know their place. It stood without permission.”

“He _has_ my permission,” the alpha growled, releasing the other man with a push.

“Touchy, touchy,” the man said, straightening his cuffs. “Don’t tell me you’ve gotten _attached_ to this one? I came all the way out here to help you get rid of it! I called a place—”

Dean’s stomach dropped to his toes. Get rid of…him? He swallowed and felt the collar around his throat once again. It was a familiar sensation in some ways and completely alien in others. Never had he worn something so fine.

“Lucien,” the alpha interrupted. “I do _not_ need your help with this.”

 _Help with what?_ Dean thought. _With_ what _? Getting rid of me?_

“Oh, come on, look at it!” He waved at Dean around the alpha’s body. The alpha didn’t turn. “The selection at the academies this season is _choice_. I was even thinking of getting a new pet for myself. This one is just… _unfortunate_.”

Dean didn’t so much as flinch; he knew what he was and “unfortunate” was practically kind.

“I have no idea why you’re so invested in what sort of omega I own, Lucien.”

The new man stuck out his lower lip. “You know family is important to me, Cassy. You should have the best. Well, maybe not _the best_ but a good runner up at the very least.”

The alpha crossed his arms over his chest. “Uh huh.” He sounded unimpressed.

“I am mother’s CFO.”

“The golden child.”

“Exactly!” The man—Lucien—clapped the alpha on the shoulder, smiling. Then he sighed. “Well if won’t let me offer you a new omega, at least let me look at the one you got.”

The alpha shook his head. But a moment later, he uncrossed his arms. “Lucien, this is my omega, Dean.” The alpha reached back and drew Dean forward by his wrist. “Dean, this is my older brother, Lucien.”

“Yes, alpha,” Dean whispered hoarsely, still shaken. The words, my omega, rang in his head.

“Hmm,” Lucien said and despite his downcast gaze, Dean could feel the man’s eyes on him. “Skinny.”

“It’s not a permanent affliction,” the alpha pointed out.

Dean focused on his breathing under the intense scrutiny. His nose confirmed what he’d already assumed; Lucien was an alpha.

“What in the world do you have it dressed in? Never mind, don’t answer that. Let me see your face, pet.”

Dean belatedly realized that last comment was directed at him. He hurriedly lifted his chin and focused his gaze on Lucien’s mouth; it was the highest he thought might be safe while also affording the other alpha full view of his features.

“Well look at that! You always were an eye man, weren’t you Castiel?” Lucien’s tongue darted out to wet his lower lip. Dean only noticed because he was staring directly at the man’s mouth.

“Are you done?” The alpha sounded impatient.

“I guess your scrawny breeder isn’t a complete trash heap after all. But do get it some proper clothes, little brother. Oh, and a haircut.” He sounded mildly disgusted.

“You act like you have nothing to do with…You know what? Go home, Lucien. I’m tired. Come here, Dean.”

Dean immediately retreated to the alpha’s side, relieved when the leash was clipped to his collar’s D-ring.

The alpha gestured expansively at the door. “After you.”

Lucien huffed. “You’re not even going to invite me for a drink, are you? Suburbia has turned you into a complete heathen.”

The alpha ignored him, locking the office door before continuing toward the front of the clinic. Dean trailed a step behind the two men, listening dully as they continued to exchange mild barbs. Part of him wanted to obsess over everything they’d said but his head ached and exhaustion made his thoughts even more sluggish.

Outside, Lucien turned his attention once more to Dean. He looked him over from head to toe and then said, “If you change your mind, let me know. I might have some more use for this one after all.”

The words sent a shiver down Dean’s spine. He didn’t know why but something in the tone made him certain he wouldn’t like the “use” Lucien had in mind.

The alpha seemed to consider his brother. As Dean peeked through his lashes, the alpha appeared like he was about to say something. Then his gaze slid to Dean. After another moment, he said, “I won’t change my mind.”

Dean’s eyes widened and he found himself unexpectedly meeting the alpha’s look head on. The alpha’s blue eyes were intense under dark brows. Dean was full of questions, first and foremost being a baffled, _why?_

“Don’t be so hasty. You never know.” Lucien pulled keys from a pants pocket and pressed a button. Parked nearby, the headlights belonging to a curvy black car flashed. “Call me anytime, Castiel.” He glanced at Dean. “Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As an aside to anyone wondering why the character's name is "Lucien" in this story, I wanted to keep Christianity as a religion in my world building. Since "Lucifer" would be an inappropriate name for a child under these circumstances, I changed it to be socially acceptable. 
> 
> I'm not saying Christianity is going to be a big part of this story but since it _is_ set in America, I just didn't want to have to write out English phrases with a Christian origin. Or have to explain why their mother decided to name one of her children after the devil.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who’s left a comment or kudos. I read them all and I’m glad people are enjoying the story. 
> 
> I’m personally enjoying the little debate going on about the food at the academy. While I never explicitly stated, I didn’t actually intend to make this a mystery.

“Hey, excuse me? Doctor?”

Castiel glanced at the young woman who’d spoken, pausing with his key poised to unlock the clinic’s front door. He’d noticed her as he’d walked up but hadn’t given her much thought; the plaza was rarely empty, even early in the morning.

“I’m sorry, the clinic doesn’t open for another half hour,” Castiel said, very aware of Dean standing a step behind him with the leash stretching between them. It made it very obvious what he was and who he belonged to. Internally, he cringed at the thought of a patient seeing him bringing his omega into work with him.

“I know. I need…I know you said not to, but…” 

Her voice was vaguely familiar. Castiel looked at her again. The woman was blonde and slender. She was wearing tight jeans, white tennis shoes, and a short-sleeved green blouse. Castiel struggled to place her. In the shadow of the building, her expression was indecipherable.

Then he noticed a second person standing tucked behind her, one hand wrapped around the blonde woman’s bicep. Most of their body was hidden but he could make out the edge of a long skirt and sweep of shoulder length brown hair. She was significantly shorter than her blonde companion too. _A child?_ Castiel guessed. Her face was nearly pressed to the other woman’s back.

“Is there an emergency?” he asked, concerned. He tilted his head, trying to get a better look. The smaller girl huddled closer to her…mom? Friend? 

The woman took a step forward and the girl moved with her like they were tethered together. The morning sun lit the side of her face and Castiel realized the woman was younger than his first impression, a teenager. 

Then recognition hit him.

“Beverly,” Castiel said in surprise, recalling easily the name of the recalcitrant little alpha who’d made him question the sanity of having children just days ago. Then his lips pursed as he remembered exactly what that appointment had entailed. “ _Beverly_ ,” he said again, gaze sliding to the half hidden form of what must be the girl’s omega.

Beverly’s brown eyes were pleading. Then her gaze darted behind him, undoubtedly landing on Dean. He was once again dressed in Castiel’s sweatpants, old grey t-shirt, and flip flops. But there was no mistaking the half inch-wide collar around his neck and dangling silver leash.

Castiel grimaced. _Perfect. Just perfect._

“Is that an omega?” Beverly demanded accusingly. The pleading look she wore vanished instantly. She inhaled deeply through her nose, answering her own question. “I thought you said you didn’t treat omegas.”

“I don’t,” Castiel said, resisting the urge to explain further. He glanced at the parking lot, sighed, and tapped his keys against his palm. Sighing again, he moved to unlock the door. 

Beverly didn’t give him a chance to re-lock it, marching past him and Dean with her own omega in tow. She stormed her way through the vestibule and into the lobby. 

Rachel looked up from where she was leaning over the front desk with some alarm. She glanced from Beverly and her omega to Castiel and his. Castiel smiled tightly. “Rachel, do you remember Beverly?”

Rachel’s eyes widened. Her gaze swivelled back and forth several times and then she smiled brightly. “Nope!”

Beverly ignored her. “So _this_ is why you won’t help. You’re one of _those_ alphas. You think it’s okay to starve and abuse omegas!” Her glare was vicious.

“Bev…” the girl’s omega said in a whisper, her tone cautioning.

“What?” she snapped back. “It’s true!”

Suddenly, Dean’s head came up and he took a firm step forward. The movement drew the attention of everyone in the room. “No,” he said, voice unexpectedly deep and unexpectedly loud. He was glaring at Beverly. Beverly blinked owlishly back at him, that one word seeming to have sapped all her fiery anger. 

“No, he…” Dean’s eyes slid side to side and he shrank under their combined attention, shoulders rolling forward. “I…I’m sorry, alpha,” he muttered, stepping back.

Castiel’s teeth clacked when he snapped his mouth closed. He knew his eyes were wide. “No, thank you, Dean. I…” He trailed off and then cleared his throat, gathering his composure before turning back to the room. 

“Beverly,” he said. “We spoke about this. Omegas are not treated at this clinic. I’m sorry but I think it would be best if you…” He hesitated, trying to come up with something kinder than simply telling the girl to leave. “If you took her somewhere else,” he finally finished with.

Beverly’s mouth opened and she took a breath like she was about to start yelling. Then she paused. Her mouth pursed and she cocked her head, studying him. 

Then she gently tugged her omega out from behind her. “This is Julia,” she said, urging her a step forward. 

The omega was petite but not as young as Castiel had first suspected. She had straight brown hair cut to a single length just below her shoulders and grey-blue eyes. Her heart-shaped face was pretty and free of makeup, round cheeks and sloped nose dusted with freckles. The long white skirt she wore fell to her calves and had a long-sleeved, baby blue shirt tucked into it. A darker blue silk scarf was tied around her neck, probably hiding a collar. She looked like a particularly modest teenager, off to Sunday school perhaps with the way her hands were clasped demurely in front of her.

Castiel inhaled slowly through his nose, trying to catch that distinctive scent of omega. But all he could smell on the girl was Beverly and a very citrusy perfume.

“Where do you want me to take her?” Beverly asked quietly. “A veterinarian? Does she look like an animal to you, doctor?”

Looking at Julia, Castiel’s stomach clenched in discomfort. Had she not been standing in front of him, he would have said, yes, take her to a veterinarian. It was after all, where you took a sick pet. But dressed that way and smelling like an alpha, she didn’t look like a pet. 

Castiel had grown up around omegas. It was the family business. His mother had often kept several at a time. 

Lucien had always loved training them with her. Micheal, his younger brother, had at times seemed to have a fleeting interest; he’d spend a few weeks obsessed with the newest omega in the house and then abruptly move on to the latest video game or whatever shiny thing had caught his attention. 

Mother had gotten Remi an omega of her own when she was fourteen as an eighth grade graduation gift; she’d been valedictorian. Castiel remembered Remi's omega as always sitting on its mat in the corner of her room, mostly ignored.

Castiel had never been interested in an omega of his own as a kid. Sure, he’d play with his family’s omegas sometimes but what he’d really wanted was a cat. Micheal was allergic though so that never happened.

When Castiel was silent for several long moments, Julia turned to her alpha. “Bev, we should go home.” Her voice was quiet but clear.

“No,” Beverly said, frowning stubbornly. “You need to get checked out by a doctor, a real doctor.”

“Veterinarians are real doctors,” Julia said, her tone patient.

“They’ll treat you like…like…”

“A pet?” 

Beverly’s frown became fierce. “You’re not a pet. You know I don’t think of you that way.”

“I’m an omega,” she said calmly. “I go into mindless heat just like any other omega. I feel the compulsive drive to obey and please you. I’m your property.”

“You’re a _person_ ,” Beverly insisted. She looked at Castiel. “Julia is smart. She reads my textbooks and helps me study. Sometimes she knows the material better than I do.”

Castiel blinked. Her omega could…read? Julia did seem strangely eloquent for an omega and he’d heard it was _possible_. But he’d also heard that even the most intelligent omega couldn’t surpass beyond something like a third grade reading level. No way was she really reading high school textbooks.

His disbelief must have shown on his face because Beverly scowled at him. “It’s true. Those studies they did in the eighties are bullshit. Have you read the original papers?”

“Beverly, I—”

“Have you?” she demanded. “It was bad science!”

“They were peer reviewed—”

She scoffed. “They’re propaganda! No one wants to loose a slave workforce. Can you imagine the economic and social destabilization? If everyone knew omegas were just as smart as anyone else, keeping them like pets couldn’t be justified!” 

“Beverly!” Julia snapped. “This isn’t helping.” 

Beverly swallowed hard, her throat bobbing. Tears welled in her eyes. “I just want you to be okay,” she said.

Julia grabbed the other girl’s hands. “I’ll be okay. Everything will be okay. I’m not the first omega to ever have a baby, you know.” 

“You could die,” Beverly whispered, voice so low Castiel almost didn’t hear her.

Rachel cleared her throat. Castiel, feeling like he’d been verbally slapped several times in the last few minutes, looked at her. “Doctor, could I speak with you? In private? Just a moment,” she added and waved him toward the exam rooms.

Castiel met her in the hall. Dean trailed behind him, head down.

“You could just do a quick exam,” Rachel whispered. “The poor girl is just scared. You can tell she loves that little omega beyond reason.”

_Beyond reason_ , he thought, finding steadiness in the words. Beverly was beyond reason when it came to omegas. It was to the point that she was attributing them qualities they simply didn’t possess. 

She was an emotional, overly attached teenager. It was only natural that she might try to make the object of her affection more person-like. She was in love with an omega when what she really wanted was a girlfriend. It was that simple.

It was not Castiel’s place to burst her bubble. What Beverly needed was a good therapist. He doubted she’d accept that sort of recommendation though.

He could do a quick exam. Beverly was a patient and if taking a look at her omega would make her feel better, he would do it just this once.

When Castiel returned to the waiting room, Beverly’s eyes were dry, a hint of redness the only sign of tears. She stood in front of Julia. “We’ll just go,” she spat, her stance protective. 

“I’ve reconsidered,” Castiel said, noticing that despite her words, she hadn’t just walked out. “I’m willing to give your…Julia a medical exam. This will just be a basic exam to rule out any obvious problems,” he added in warning.

Beverly’s face transformed. She looked so hopeful and relieved that Castiel felt like a jerk for trying to send her away. “You will?”

“Yes,” he sighed. It wasn’t illegal as far as he was aware so he supposed there wasn’t any harm. “Follow me.”


	11. Chapter 11

The alpha led Beverly, the alpha girl, and her shockingly brazen omega past the hall door that led to the office. Not having been told to do anything else, Dean followed closely on his heels even when he let go of the leash.

They filed into a room with a silver 2 on the door. Inside, there was a desk with a computer, a really high bed with a sheet of paper covering it, and a chair in the corner. The walls displayed posters with big, colourful writing. Some of the posters had pictures but they didn’t tell Dean much; none of the people in the images looked sick or injured.

“Sit here, Julia,” the alpha said, directing the omega to the bed. The omega didn’t even hesitate. Still walking upright, she used the step-stool to nimbly hop up on the elevated surface. The paper crinkled loudly underneath her. 

Dean tucked himself into the corner where the desk met the wall, sinking down into a crouch with the leash’s leather handle brushing the floor. He felt out of place and strange watching the alpha interact with the other omega. Julia was nothing like the omegas he’d known in the past. She had yelled at her alpha. It was unthinkable. Why hadn’t she been punished? 

Why hadn’t _he_ been punished? Dean had no idea what had come over him. When he’d heard Beverly accusing the alpha of doing the sort of things Dean had endured at the breeding farm, he’d felt so _angry_. The alpha was the best Dean had ever known. How dare she say he was like the others?

Dean had spoken without thinking. All he had been remembering in that moment was the alpha stepping in front of him and stopping his own brother from striking him. He just couldn’t let the alpha girl hurl her false accusations. 

Dean’s actions should have gotten him punished. A smack to the back of the head at the very least. He’d told an alpha _no_ , contradicted her to her face. An entire day without food would have been justified.

Instead, the alpha had _thanked_ him. He had called him Dean and said “thank you.” For a moment, Dean had felt…different. He almost felt like he could have said, “You’re welcome, Castiel.” 

But that was not how omegas were supposed to talk. He’d never even allowed himself to _think_ of the alpha that way. Except Julia, an omega herself, called her alpha _Beverly_. Dean had even heard her say _Bev_ , like they were friends. He imagined calling the alpha _Cas_ and a shiver of unease went down his spine.

“Okay, I’m going to start with a few questions,” the alpha said once he’d settled into the swivel chair at the desk. He turned to face the centre of the room and Dean could just see his face if he leaned his head back against the wall. “First, have you taken a pregnancy test?”

“Yes,” Julia said, meeting the alpha’s gaze briefly. “Beverly brought three home two days ago.”

“They were all positive?”

“Yes,” she said quietly.

Beverly, hovering next to the bed, stroked Julia’s shoulder. The omega leaned into the touch. Dean stared at them.

“Can you do some sort of test to confirm?” Beverly asked anxiously.

“The home tests are very reliable. There’s not really a need.”

Beverly’s throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. “Alright.”

“When was your last heat cycle?”

“Two months ago,” Julia answered. Her voice was so calm. There was no fear as far as Dean could tell. She was talking to an alpha. How was she not afraid?

“Did you menstruate afterwards?”

“No,” Julia said.

“But that’s pretty normal for her,” Beverly added, quickly.

The alpha made a half turn toward the computer before he stopped. Shaking his head a little, he swivelled back. “And you’ve been experiencing morning sickness—nausea, vomiting—for the last three weeks?”

Julia nodded. 

“Not every day!” Beverly interjected.

Julia flicked a look at her. “Some days are worse than others.”

Beverly’s eyebrows drew together. “You didn’t tell me that.”

Julia shrugged. Dean blinked, astonished at her lack of reaction to the rebuke in her alpha’s tone. She was practically asking to be beaten. It was reckless! She could loose her pups, he’d seen it happen. He waited tensely for the first blow. Then he remembered that even yelling at her alpha didn’t seem to be cause enough for punishment.

“You need to tell me these things,” Beverly said and instead of anger, her voice was almost…whiny?

“Did you have intercourse during that heat cycle?” The alpha said, interrupting them.

Both Julia and Beverly tensed. The omega looked down at her hands. Stiffly, Beverly said, “We had sex but she won’t tell me if…if there was…”

 _Won’t tell?_ Dean thought. How was _won’t_ even a possibility?

“Julia?” the alpha said. 

“Nothing happened,” she said, still looking down. Her hands were squeezed tight in her lap.

The alpha’s mouth twisted in thought. “Beverly, you’re sure you haven’t reached full sexual maturity?”

“I think I would notice if I knotted,” she snapped back

“Female alphas are significantly smaller in that area—”

“I’d notice!” Colour had risen in Beverly’s cheeks.

“Okay, okay.” The alpha raised a placating hand. “The symptoms are all pointing to pregnancy but if you’re absolutely sure that’s impossible, I can start looking for other causes.”

“It’s _impossible_. Julia was home and my mom’s a beta. Julia knows not to go outside when she’s in heat.”

“And you were there the whole time?”

Beverly shifted on her feet. “Well, no. I was there on Friday but I had leadership camp that weekend. When I came back Sunday evening, her heat was over.”

Silence grew in the room. Dean wondered what the problem was. Under the scents of her alpha and orange peel, the omega girl was clearly pregnant. Couldn’t they smell it?

“Justin came home from college,” Julia said into the quiet, her voice so low it was nearly inaudible. “On Saturday.”

“Justin?” Beverly gasped. “But you wouldn’t… I don’t… Julia? What did he do?” Her voice quavered.

Julia looked at her with anguished eyes. “He’s your bother. I didn’t want to tell you. I’m sorry, I tried…I tried to get away.”

Beverly’s breathing hitched. “I’m going to kill him,” she whispered. Then louder, “I’m going to _kill_ him!” Tears pooling in her eyes, she bared her teeth in a snarl. 

Julia grabbed Beverly’s arm. Dean did not think it was smart to voluntarily touch such an obviously angry alpha but nothing about what was happening was making much sense to him.

Sure enough, despite what experience had taught him, Beverly did not turn on Julia in her rage. “Don’t try talking me out of it! That good for nothing beta scum is a _rapist_ ,” she said in a voice coated in venom. “I’m going to rip his balls off and throw them in a blender!”

“Bev, it’s okay. It—it didn’t hurt.”

“It’s not okay! Nothing about what Justin did was _okay_.” Beverly’s voice cracked. She scrubbed at her eyes. The alpha silently passed her a tissue from the box on his desk. For several minutes, no one spoke as Beverly wiped at her face and blew her nose. Finally, she took in a breath and blew it out slowly, squeezing the balled up tissue in her fist. “Let’s just.” She took another breath. “Let’s just make sure everything is fine first. You’re the most important thing. I’ll kill my brother later.”

“You love him,” Julia said softly.

“I love you more,” Beverly said immediately, voice impatient. “Don’t hide anything like this from me ever again.”

“Okay.” She gave her a small smile.

Utterly baffled, Dean watched the rest of the exam without any notice being given to him. There were more questions asked and then the alpha did things with tools Dean had no names for. Throughout, Beverly and Julia never seemed to stop touching each other, simple touches that neither seemed to even notice. Their interactions were so strange. Dean had never seen anything like it.

Finally, the alpha said, “Julia seems healthy and based on her size at this stage, she will probably be having a smaller litter. I recommend she take a prenatal supplement to make sure she and the babies are getting all the vitamins they needs. Whatever brand you get, make sure they don’t use sugar as a filler.”

Beverly, looking a little overwhelmed, nodded. “We know. Processed sugar and omegas don’t mix.”

Julia jumped down off the table. “Thank you, doctor.” She grabbed Beverly’s hand.

“Good luck,” the alpha said. “If anything changes, please, uh…” He paused as if rethinking what he had been about to say.

“We’ll come back,” Beverly said, smirking.

“No,” the alpha said quickly. “No, this was a one time thing. Beverly!”

But the girls had already made a run for it. The alpha sighed. Rachel poked her head in the door. “Doctor, your first appointment is here.”


	12. Chapter 12

Dean had a lot to think about. So when the alpha took him to the office, and gave him the same set of instructions as the day before, he was relieved.

Again and again, he went over the events of the morning. The fresh piece of paper the alpha had left him slowly became covered in meaningless swirls as his mind worked. 

At lunch time, the alpha took him in his car and they ate bowls of leafy greens and vegetables. The alpha referred to them as _salads_. Dean was surprised to find he was less than enthused by the meal. He’d started to believe all people food was wonderful but the salad had nothing at all on the greatness of _chicken_. Still, food was food and he was happy to have any at all. 

On the way back to the clinic, he rubbed absently at his chest as he stared out the window. It had begun to ache the night before but he’d been so exhausted he’d barely noticed. The alpha had, as promised, let him nap for several hours. Then Dean had had to drag himself out of bed to eat for the third time that day. Three meals in a single day. Was that not excessive?

Regardless, he’d barely paid attention to the food. All his exhausted faculties had been needed to keep his focus on the alpha. Not that the alpha had asked much of Dean; perhaps he could tell Dean simply had no energy left because he had sent him back to the omega bed shortly after they’d both finished eating. Dean had gone gratefully and slept like the dead until morning.

The ache was more pronounced today. Dean slid his gaze to the alpha, watching without fully turning his head as he navigated the streets with ease, both hands loosely gripping the steering wheel. Did the alpha _know_ Dean was lactating? If so, he would decide when and if something would be done to relieve the pressure.

But what if he _didn’t_ know? Could Dean mention it? The very idea of speaking out of turn made his blood run cold. It was not his place to tell an alpha _anything_. Speak when asked a direct question, that was the rule.

Except…except maybe that was the old rule. Dean had already spoken out of turn once, hadn’t he? He hadn’t been punished for it. The alpha had even said _thank you_ which Dean still didn’t understand. 

And yesterday, the alpha had told Dean he could ask questions. Dean hadn’t thought he’d really meant it literally. At least, not in the way he’d implied, that Dean could just ask any old question that popped into his head, spoken out loud at any time. It was sure to get him in trouble if he did that. He’d likely meant Dean could ask questions about commands if he didn’t fully understand them, so he could more accurately obey. That was reasonable for such a generous alpha.

Except if Dean didn’t say anything and the alpha wasn’t aware of the issue, eventually he would leak onto the clothing the alpha had dressed him in. Dean had the nerve-racking suspicion that the items he was wearing were in fact the alpha’s. If Dean got them dirty because he chose to say silent, would the alpha be mad?

Dean’s thoughts chased themselves in circles. If he spoke, he might be punished. If he didn’t speak, he might be punished. With such limited experience to draw on, he had no way of really knowing which option would be worse for him. _This is frustrating_ , he finally thought with an internal growl. He had to make a choice before it was made for him. 

Did other omegas have to do this? Maybe they were all like Julia, reckless and unafraid. Was that how the alpha wanted him to be? Feeling incredibly out of his depth, Dean swallowed.

“Alpha,” Dean tried to say. His mouth shaped the word but no sound escaped. His heart pounded and all he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears.

The alpha’s nostrils flared and he glanced over. “What’s wrong?”

Licking his lips, Dean tried to explain before his nerve broke. “I don’t want to get your shirt dirty!” he blurted. “I’m sorry. Alpha! I’m sorry, alpha.” He was quaking now. Why was he doing this? “I have—There’s milk!” Nothing was coming out right. “They had a…a pump and I thought… Could I? Alpha?” Dean’s throat seemed to seize and he knew he wasn’t making any sense. Sentences were forming in his brain but they just seemed to come out jumbled and out of order!

The alpha looked back at the road, his eyebrows knit together. Dean sunk miserably into his seat, wishing he had kept his mouth shut. They pulled into the parking lot outside the clinic and the car came to a stop.

“Whatever you were trying to say, say it again slowly. What do you need?” The alpha sounded confused rather than angry. 

Still huddled in on himself, Dean turned to stare fixedly at the alpha’s chin and tried not to shake. “Lactation pump,” he said, unsticking his tongue enough to get the words out. “I didn’t know,” he whispered hoarsely, “if you knew…I might leak…on the shirt, alpha.”

“You’re _lactating_?” The alpha said. 

Dean glanced up, seeing the alpha’s incredulous expression for an instant. “Yes, alpha,” he said, feeling some relief that at least he wasn’t repeating information the alpha already knew. 

The alpha lifted a hand. Dean flinched but he simply rubbed at his face. “Christ,” he muttered. He peered at Dean through his fingers. “You were pregnant recently?”

Dean flinched again. He should have realized where this topic would naturally lead. His greatest failure. He didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to _think_ about it. All the _blood_ …

He shoved the memories away. “Yes, alpha,” he said, voice tight.

The silence stretched until it seemed to fill the car. Finally, the alpha said, “Will you be fine until the clinic closes?”

Dean thought about it. Based on the day before, that was probably several hours away. “Yes, alpha,” he said. Then without thinking, he added, “But your shirt might not be.”

The alpha blinked at him. 

Dean belatedly realized his own impertinence. His eyes widened and for a moment all he could do was stare back. Apologies filled his head but they seemed to all clog up before they could spill over his tongue.

Through a haze of adrenaline, Dean saw the alpha’s lips quirk…in a smile? “I’ll take the risk,” the alpha said. Then he opened the car door and slid out.

Dean took a beat too long to follow suit as relearned how to breath. Then he scrambled out of the car after him.

…

That evening, Dean’s chest felt like it contained two large rocks and the shirt he wore had wet spots. The wet fabric against his nipples was terribly annoying.

“Walmart should have something,” the alpha muttered, pulling into traffic. 

Dean, slumped in the passenger seat, nodded tiredly. The heat of the car pressed in on him like a blanket from all sides, making his brain feel fuzzy. The alpha’s scent, richer after a full day working, spread through the vehicle and filled his nose. The top note of antiseptic was so familiar to Dean after being in the clinic that he almost didn’t smell it anymore. Beneath it was a warm, woody smell intermingled with the scents of alpha musk and laundry detergent. He breathed deeply and felt his eyelids droop.

The alpha fiddled with the dials on the car’s dash and a chill blast of air conditioning hit him. Dean grunted in displeasure and the alpha wordlessly turned the vents toward himself.

Dean might have drifted off, or maybe the drive was really short, because it only seemed like moments before the car was being parked again. He cracked an eyelid.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” the alpha said. “Stay here.”

“Yes, alpha,” Dean said drowsily. 

The alpha left and Dean snuggled down farther into the seat. He wasn’t quite as tired as the day before, but a nap still sounded like an excellent idea. As his mind began to drift, he had the thought that he really liked the alpha’s car. It was a safe, comfortable shell where next to nothing was expected of him. 

Loud banging unexpectedly tore Dean from sleep. He sat bolt upright and the seatbelt pressed painfully against his pectorals. Heart pounding, he glanced wildly around and then flinched back when he saw un unfamiliar face leering at him from the passenger window. 

The person was male and looked young with smiling brown eyes. He was wearing a red ball cap and white t-shirt. He lifted a hand and pounded on the window a second time. 

Dean cowered back, all sleepiness fled.

The boy laughed, glancing over his shoulder. He waved someone over. A second boy appeared, dark hair and eyes with metal braces on his teeth. The new boy leaned down to peer in at Dean.

“It’s so scrawny looking,” the first boy said, voice muffled but clear through the window. “My uncle has an omega but it’s like a pup still.”

“Like a baby-pup?” the second boy asked, crinkling his nose.

“Naw, older than that. Like your sister. Uncle Jeff calls it Molly.”

“I wish my parents would get me an omega,” the dark haired boy said wistfully. 

“That would be so wicked! I want one but my mom says they’re too expensive.”

“Same,” the dark-haired boy groaned. “So does your uncle…you know…with the omega?”

The sandy-haired boy glanced around. “I don’t know,” he said, voice quieter so that Dean almost couldn’t hear him. “I thought only alphas did that.”

The dark-haired boy shook his head. “Are you kidding? No way. Why do you think so many betas have omegas if not to do _that_ with them?

The other boy blinked. “Really?” He looked back at Dean, speculation now on his face. “I thought they were just cool pets. Like a dog that you could train to clean your room or whatever.”

“Yeah, they can do that but then they’ll suck your dick too. They love it.” He snickered.

The sandy-haired boy made a face at Dean. “I’d want a pretty girl omega then.”

His friend shrugged. “I don’t care. It would be so great to have around, even one like this. You could do whatever you wanted to it.” There was a gleam in the boy’s eyes that Dean had seen far too often. He worried they would try to get in the car.

The sandy-haired boy laughed nervously. “C’mon, Josh, let’s go before the owner gets back.”

The dark-haired boy allowed himself to be pulled away but his eyes lingered hungrily on Dean. It made him feel like he was right back in his stall at the breeding farm. 

When the alpha finally came back several minutes later with two plastic bags dangling from one hand, Dean was relieved. The alpha used his keys to unlock the car and opened the driver’s side door. A breeze disturbed the stuffy interior as he paused, looking Dean over.

“I thought you were going to take a nap,” he said. “Did something…happen?”

Dean looked into his face. It was meant to be a quick look to gauge the alpha’s mood but something about his blue eyes made him stare longer. There was no gleam, Dean realized. The alpha didn’t look at him like something to be devoured.

Dropping his gaze, Dean remembered he’d just been asked a question. Recalling the alpha’s rule about honesty, he said, “Yes, alpha. Someone knocked on the window and I woke up.”

The alpha winced. “They were probably concerned about the hot car. I didn’t mean to leave you in here for so long. But here.” He dumped the plastic bags in Dean’s lap.

Dean peeked inside with interest. The first bag was mostly filled with fabric, dark blues, greens, and greys, but he could feel something harder through the bottom. The second bag held a rectangular box.

“That’s for you,” the alpha said. He glanced at Dean as he started the car. “Go ahead and look.”

Surprised and slightly wary, Dean began shifting the items in the first bag around. He found three short sleeved shirts, a plaid button up, and a sweater. His fingers encountered rougher fabric beneath all the tops and he unearthed a pair of jeans. Finally, at the very bottom, there were black canvas shoes in size 11.

Face screwing up in disbelief, he checked the second bag. The rectangular box had a picture of what he supposed must be the lactation pump. It had little resemblance to what he was used to; the reservoir was a small clear bottle with yellow flowers that attached directly to the suction cup. The electric pump itself was yellow too. 

Beneath the box he noticed two squishy packages. From the labels under the plastic wrapping, he gathered one package contained underwear and the other, socks.

Dean had spent most of his life naked but he still knew what omega clothing looked like. This was not it. In public settings, omegas were required by law to wear clothing that covered their genitals and to be securely leashed. That aside, clothing for omegas was for ornamentation primarily: bright, shimmery fabrics that framed rather than covered. He had been told some alphas would use their omegas to display their wealth, draping them with jewels and precious metals. Omegas were not dressed like, well, _people_. 

“I took a guess on the sizes,” the alpha said, “but anything that doesn’t fit can be returned. What do you think?”

_Honesty_ , Dean reminded himself. He considered what to say. “I don’t understand,” he admitted after a moment, staring down at the bags. “I…I’m not…I’m an omega and this is…” _This is not what omegas wear_ , he finished in his head. Except omegas did what they were told. If the alpha wanted him to wear the clothing provided, that’s what he would do. But it was so _wrong_.

The alpha shrugged as he drove. “If you’re coming to the clinic with me, it’s better if you don’t look too much like an omega.”

_Helpful_ , Dean thought sarcastically, at a complete loss. He didn’t know why the alpha was taking him to work with him in the first place. Wasn’t Dean’s place in the alpha’s home, cleaning and preparing food? So far, all Dean seemed to do was travel back and forth to the clinic, eat people food, and sleep. 

As he thought about it, he realized he’d been failing somewhere along the way. So far, he was proving to be practically useless as an omega. It shouldn’t matter how _tired_ he was. He needed to make himself worth keeping. Feeling the weight of all the things the alpha had bought for his personal use shift in his lap, Dean vowed he would try harder.


End file.
